' ! ; I < ! M . H > 1 i ; ; < • • ; ; ; ; 1 1 . n l ■ l j 1 1 1 { il j ; t ! i ; i i ! ! ; i i l < j i 1 1 1 ; i 1 1 > ! i 

!i| l il: lllii:: i 

i iiii iii !i liilj jiil'iliibi j! ! 

I' III' I i 

!';!!: i|ii lili 

! li ! I i i I ’ M ' j i i I ! ! • I i i i i h ' M ; . i ■ ■ ; ‘ ! i ^ j M i I i ! j ! ; 1 1 M '■ i . ; 


Ml li Ml it 

iii! i ill l| jj l| 

!ii! iiljiMM' 

IMi! ■i'ilill! I'ilil 
Mili|l!li!i hiiMii 

: M : : . 1 1 M i M ) ! I ‘ n 


M t 

; ; 1 : i 
.1 1 1 1 


M ! 1 1 1 i ! : ; 

M liMii 

m! ii -Mi 

M ' j I I ' ■ , M 


' i i ; i ' ij I ! i s 
• i ' I i 1 1 ] n 
Mi i 


-'Ml:!: Ml ii! ill III ii liiiiiijiiljiijlMilllilii:: 
I'MiiiM li! j i iM ' 1 i 1!;!; hi !i ihM; 

■ iiijlli 

ii !1 i!i;! !i; il:; Ililii-i:;'-’' i; 


lil| j! llMi 
1 * I ; ! I ; M ; ■ M ; . 


ii i i ij 

I 1 I . > i M 


liiiiii! 'i! 


i i i!i iihM 
M l hill 

M 1 1 i I'M 
il! i! ii!!nM 

M i 1 I : 1 i ' M ; I 

!! 


'ii'MM. 


iHil: 


' I Mil ■ 

iihlihi 

iMhiM 

Mi, 

M I'lllii 

I ' M : I ! : I ' I 

MMlii t;i 


• M : I { i 

M ; • M ' 
'M’hlM' 


mMi: 

; • . 1 

M : ■ , 

Mil-''' • 
.MMMiM 




M i M : 


IMMiM::- 
: M i ' [ ! M ■ 


' ' ( i' ' ' ' ’ 

Ml'’ M . M* V h 1 . 
■ ' M • ; i i i M ' ' 

MMi-ihMhMh: 

:Mm!; 'M-MM) 


MJiiiiit.l'MHM! 

iMMiliiMMilMM 

■ miMm M;:;:;.; 

: M ] ■ M ; ' i ' : : : j M : 

I I I I ! • ! ' ' j ‘ 

.1 • i ‘ ’ M , : 

' ''Mm-' 

MliMMiMiM 

ii'lMi'M'MH: 

M ■;.! i .M • , 

: . : • . ! I • • ' M : I ‘ ; 

M ' ‘ } i ' I • 

M'MMilhhMMM 

‘ M , ' « ] I • • 





Class 

Rnnic ■LS\^ °lS 

Gopight'N? 


COPVRIGHT DEPOSIT. 






ov 










S\¥* 




/SX 


■>y:’'*>*] ]'(*/ 


L-t* 




.^:l 




w. 




n*' 


•\ V’ 


'/ » . f 














Mr 




» \' 







^'•r 


H I '1 - P 




mM 




*i\ * 1 

r&w,rt\’i 


!tc 






<: 


f I 


:;p 

I 




♦: > 



;i.' ^ 




lO 


'iia. 








»v<l 




J?: 


Wf 




»\' 








Ui 


► ^1 


• t 


;» i; 




if' 


';■■ ,>■ .' r’J 


1 


/r/ 






■.Vi, 


,‘ •>T'> y 




yy. 


■ >■ 


.»■./ V 




1 r. 






A \ 


’ ' . K'^ vW 

A'> ^ - ,'■ v 4 |^'»^‘ 






'■ ' IJ'V. ■ 

f.w,\^^^.' >v.'. , >. 1 , ,y-'j^ .«'*■';■ • V 


r.y 




.vS».v 


V 




■t 

I ./;a 




1 1 ^ 


»r 




-»’• 


ivix'.c :■■ 


\5 : SS 




»i !• 


f 


.i| ■ 

t » 


'* ► 


'‘f; 


'> 


». I 



j:< v/, ■ 'i^' V V if-, •* +v .-• '>7.1'!.,"'' ' : -I 

S :.vv'-|. ^ ,•: ■ V.' 

'■‘h. ■■{■>-'^ '/:\. • ' , I'.. , .• •.,■ ,, , ■ , 

/T A . I . V - ‘ . .X I I * . I I I . ^ ^ 


■ it' 


,v.-. 


r\ 


. V 


M 1 




• . V 


' m 


\ • 


>X! 


' • ^/*v ■• . ■'■ r' ’--i* '•.■'a »../ '... ,». ,' • 

'I ’ Ml 1^ t , ■ ' .. < . iT ' ' ' .,, f I • ', . » 




k 

A 


i.'^ 


.. Mi\ 


• ) , I' 

'». . > 


I 

•;’ 

I* - 


t * 


m 


■ ••• ■ . - v'. ■ ■'> .•■'‘i l 


. .' 7 

• 


. . f • 

» I 

J . P 






I 



I /.f*' 

• f I j 
s 


; 

1 




I .' > 


'I 


V' 


'7iV 


•> 


';'ii 




C- 




r'y' 








¥ 


-A 


ff 






« •• *v . <. 




Si 




i . 


•4 


ri.i 




•- ^ c't .'i* ** , V ’• 

>••/ >/ ' V ' Z’ ' ’ 


^ . 


/I 

4 I 

•j< 


' J 


■' '■ -''yv ' 


• . « 


y'\ 


■' V. ;,.■’■ ' ;■ 

* . .\h /. >} ‘ . ^ -■ • 4 

• ' ; r‘ ■<• . ' ' 


1*. 


* < 


, ••* 

■■:h/ 


1’, 


".'■v 





'!■ I 


'v'WtvV’ '/'. '.'/'•'’i''!> A i' ' ‘ ■'■ '■'s®' : ■■ ■ I ' /tl'"’ 

ffioSiaMifeSifc... , 'fj. , ■ ■'.'■I:* " 


f r 

/ 


\ 

J 

“ r 




^v. 


1 1 1 






A 


fiT/. 


m. 


ai.'j'i' >. ■ 

mM.'r'Av ■.'■ 


• ., ^ • : -r ' • '■ ^'4 '• ' 


1 • •*. 

. ' r 






a' 


*744 




ir/ 






7.1 












S'*J 


w,'.- 


X / 


' 4 - 





f’ 


, -.c : 










SEPARATION 



V 


SEPARATION 


BY / 

MARGARET LEE 

Author of Divorce,” “ Brighton Night,” Etc., Etc. 




F. M. BUCKLES & COMPANY 
9 and 1 1 East Sixteenth Street, New York 
1902 


yZ'i 


THE LIBRARY OF 
CONGRESS, 
V'VO Coptts REOEtVED 

JUN. 2'f 1902 


(^OPVRIQHT ENTRY 

Cl^iASS ^ XXo. No. 


^ S t ^ f 

COPY B. 


Copyright, 190a, by 
F. M. Buckles & Company 


< V V 

C C ( 
Met 


c C C « * 

t e ^ 

f i < t 

< t 

t < < < ^ 




Separation 


Separation 


CHAPTEE I 

In spite of his Christian charity, his philos- 
ophy, and his Emersonian toleration, the Eev. 
Howard Carey found it impossible to perform 
his duties towards the gentleman who was, 
theoretically, a welcome guest at the parsonage. 
Mrs. Carey drew on her sympathy, and thus 
succeeded in bearing with this new study in 
human nature. He occupied an easy-chair 
placed in front of the open wood-fire in her 
sitting-room; his hands rested on his knees, 
his eyes were closed, his features expressed 
weariness tinged with sadness. Personally, he 
was tall, slight and fair. 

“We have some very pleasant neighbors, 
Mr. Cortis, and there are several charming 
families connected with the church.’’ Mrs. 

5 


6 


SEPARATION 


Carey took up her sewing as she talked. If 
you would like to know them, I can easily in- 
troduce you.” 

“ Thank you ” — Cortis spoke slowly without 
opening his eyes — “I think I would prefer 
waiting until I could at least look at them. 
JVfeeting strangers is very embarrassing ; I 
grow nervous in the effort to hide my trouble, 
and then I begin to wonder if I shall ever 
again be able to use my eyes. I am a dull 
companion — a bore ” 

“I thought that young people, chatting 
merrily, might prove entertaining to you. If 
3^ou could forget your condition, wouldn’t the 
fact be a benefit ? ” 

“ But I must sit with closed eyes in a dark- 
ened room and pose as a sufferer. I don’t 
fancy doing it if, as your son says, my eyes 
will soon be strong. Better court solitude 
and avoid nervousness.” 

“ But you do not look cheerful, and Lowell 
gave me strict injunctions to keep you inter- 
ested with pleasant subjects.” 


SEPARATION 


7 


“ Mrs. Carey, my surroundings are all that 
I can desire, and I am so anxious to get back 
to my work, that I may yet turn a Mark Tap- 
ley on your hands,” 

‘‘Now you enchant me. You cannot be too 
full of fun or too noisy for me. Would you 
like me to read a humorous book to you? 
Lowell owns several of Mark Twain’s works.” 

“ If it will not tax your voice.” 

“ Oh, I enjoy reading aloud. I’ll get 
‘ Roughing It.’ ” 

Mrs. Carey left the room. Cortis rose and 
began pacing back and forth between the fire- 
place and a deep bay window, at which he soon 
halted. The aspect of the outer world proved 
fascinating. Snow rested everywhere — on the 
twigs and branches and inclined trunks of the 
fruit and shade trees that were outlined against 
the dull gray horizon, on the strong leaves of 
the hospitable evergreens that ornamented the 
lawn, and on the old fence rails that showed 
the limits of the grounds of the parsonage. 
The atmosphere was dense with the flying 


8 


SEPARATION 


flakes, and as far as the eye could reach, the 
white surface was unbroken. 

Cortis gazed with much effort, then he sat 
down and closed his eyes. He had chosen to 
enjoy the effect of snow in the country — he 
might not complain of the pain caused by its 
purity. How pleasant it would be to wrap up, 
protect his eyes with smoked glasses, and 
wander off in this white desert ! Ho doubt, 
Mrs. Carey would like to be his companion. 

He had never been in such a home. Its 
machinery ran noiselessly and apparently 
without an engineer. Occasionally he had 
glimpses of a quiet, neatly dressed woman ar- 
ranging the table in the dining-room; and 
from the perfectly cooked food to the pyramid 
of blazing logs in front of him, every detail 
of domestic comfort was evidently the object 
of skill controlled by affection. Through 
half-drawn hangings, he had a view of his 
host, seated, book-surrounded, in a cozy study. 
The main hall separated the study from the 
sitting-room, but the library opened directly 


SEPARATION 


9 


from the sitting-room, and thus afforded a safe 
refuge for Cortis in case of necessity. He 
was listening for Mrs. Carey’s returning steps, 
when light ones echoed on the porch, the 
wooden knocker was struck thrice, the street 
door was opened from without, and a girl’s 
clear, musical voice rang through the hallway : 
“ Good-morning, Mr. Carey. Am I not 
brave? How, don’t move. I finished that 
prosy old book, and now you must lend me 
something modern and bright.” 

Cortis rose suddenly, commenced a retreat, 
halted, then returned to his seat and stood 
hesitating. The voice and its owner were 
now in the study. Cortis closed the sitting- 
room door, sat down and put his hand over his 
closed eyes ; his limbs were trembling. 
“ Good God ! How nervous — how foolish I 
am ! ” he muttered. 

When Mrs. Carey returned, Cortis had 
shielded his eyes with smoked glasses and was 
sitting near the window that opened on the 
front porch, apparently interested with the 


lO 


SEPARATION 


view of the lawn, gate, and road beyond. ‘‘ Is 
there any particular chapter that you would 
prefer hearing ? ” Mrs. Carey asked, as she ad- 
justed her spectacles and opened the volume. 

Cortis looked at her for some seconds, then 
his eyes blinked behind his glasses : 

“ I think I like the beginning of the 
book.” 

For some minutes Mrs. Carey read in com- 
fort. Her voice was sweet and clear, her 
method simple. The logs crackled and the 
clock ticked an agreeable accompaniment. 
She could not determine whether her listener 
was deeply interested or wholly abstracted. 
His eyes remained closed, his lips were shut 
firmly, his hands lay nerveless on his knees. 
The murmur of voices in the hallway and the 
opening of the street door were unheeded by 
Mrs. Carey ; yet, as she read, she was aware 
that Cortis had changed his position and was 
noting what was taking place. It was noth- 
ing very exciting. A tall woman, slight of 
figure and clothed in a dark cloth newmarket, 


SEPARATION 


11 


was carefully retracing her own footprints in 
the deep snow on the lawn. The hood of the 
garment was drawn over her head, she carried 
an open umbrella and held it close to her 
shoulders ; but, in opening the gate, she tilted 
her cotton shield, and Cortis had a full view of 
her face. He bent forward and watched her 
retreating form, then his head sank, his hands 
met in a nervous clasp, he became absorbed. 
Mrs. Carey continued. After a while Cortis 
resumed his attitude of attention, the clock 
ticked rhythmically with the sounds from the 
fireplace, and a very amusing passage caused 
Mrs. Carey to glance at her auditor for a re- 
sponsive smile of appreciation. Cortis raised 
his eyes and shook his head. 

“ Mrs. Carey, I am only imposing on your 
kindness. I haven’t heard one sentence. The 
truth is, that I cannot get away from my own 
misery.” 

“I can’t think of anything really suitable,” 
Mrs. Carey said gently. “I am too old. I 
have forgotten how to entertain, How, if you 


12 


SEPARATION 


would only meet gay, light-hearted people. 

That young lady who was here just now ” 

“ Is she gay — light-hearted ? ’’ 

“Oh, charmingly so — as merry as a bird. 

If you would make her acquaintance ” 

“ Oh ! — no, no ! Impossible ! I am no com- 
panion for happy people. I can scarcely en- 
dure existence ! ” 

Cortis rose and unconsciously put away his 
glasses as he paced the floor. “ I don’t know 
how to live through the long hours. This 
helplessness is driving me crazy ! ” 

“ But Lowell says that your eyes will gain in 
strength if only you will refrain from using 
them ; and with the prospect of recovery, I 
should think you would exert yourself to be 
patient. Suppose you had to contemplate total 
blindness.” 

“You are quite right, Mrs. Carey. I am 
cross and ungrateful. 1 do hug the hope that 
your son has held out to me. It keeps me alive ! 
You are very good to put up with my ill-hu- 
mor. I must be a very disagreeable guest.” 


SEPARATION 


13 


“ I try to imagine the burden that you carry. 
To be perfectly strong, young, ambitious, ener- 
getic — and yet unable to do anything that re- 
quires eyesight, is indeed a hard condition to 
bear. Mr. Carey is a good Christian. He 
holds that if we search in faith we shall always 
find some blessing concealed in every trial.” 

“ I haven’t found one in this.” 

“ Have you been looking for it ? ” 

“ I certainly have not.” 

Cortis still paced the floor; Mrs. Carey 
slowly met his perplexed, troubled glance. 

“ Would you like to walk before luncheon ? ” 
“ Yes — will you come with me ? ” 

“ With pleasure.” 

Once in the air, holding the umbrella low to 
protect Mrs. Carey’s face from the flakes, Cortis 
felt his spirits rising ; and as they pressed the 
snow beneath their arctics, she chatted inter- 
estingly of the town and its people. 


CHAPTEK II 


The next morning when Cortis awoke from 
a long, perfect sleep, he could tell, without 
opening his eyes, that the room was warm and 
bright with sunshine. Anticipating a dark, 
stormy day, he had not shut the window blinds 
nor lowered the shades, and, wondering and 
rejoicing, he hurriedly excluded the dazzling 
light, and lost no time in getting into the open 
air. The sky was one limitless turquoise ; the 
atmosphere was invigorating; ceaseless mur- 
murs of water announced a great thaw. Cortis 
found an easy-chair on the east porch, and sat 
down to inhale the pure breath of the morning. 
How exquisite it was ! how fresh and clear, 
yet freighted with stores of vitalizing forces ! 

“ I am glad you are getting an appetite for 
breakfast,” said Mrs. Carey, perceiving him as 
she opened a window in the dining-room. “ I 
14 


SEPARATION 


15 

shall go to church feeling that you will not 
miss me on such a morning as this.” 

“ Is it worth a journey ? ” said Cortis with a 
smile that gave an entirely new expression to 
his features. “ I was just trying to recollect 
if I had ever before been in the country 
during February. These sudden changes 
in the temperature produce very pleasant 
effects.” 

“And every day they will become more 
charming and fascinating. You will find your- 
self seeking the open air without exactly know- 
ing why. ^Nature draws one with secret, irre- 
sistible cords. You will lose interest in writ- 
ten books, and study the poem which cannot 
be put into words.” 

“I think you are right. Yesterday, as you 
know, I was quite dispirited; this morning, 
life seems full of new thoughts and possibili- 
ties. I think I shall feel very content while 
you are away.” 

“ You will see our church-going people if you 
care to look towards the road. This is the Fifth 


i6 SEPARATION 

Avenue of the town, and the favorite prome- 
nade.” 

“ I shall not allow myself to feel dull or 
lonely.” 

Cortis followed Mrs. Carey to the table, 
where they were joined by Mr. Carey, who 
grew cordial and conversational in the warmth 
of his guest's happy frame of mind. The muf- 
fins were feathery ; the eggs sweet with coun- 
try freshness ; the coffee held its subtle aroma. 

Cortis returned to his sunny porch, almost 
forgetful of his green shades, and the rector 
and his wife, arm-in-arm, set out for the small 
church where Mr. Carey faced the Sunday 
simper of his flock, and tried to warn and arm 
it against the cherished vices that prevented 
its Christian growth and influence. For some 
minutes Cortis watched the passing figures, 
some solitary, others in small groups or in fam- 
ily parties. Light laughter and pleasant words 
were carried on the breeze ; the serenity of 
Nature seemed to be reflected in the faces of 
the people, together with a conscious delight 


SEPARATION 


17 


in their fine clothes and the opportunity to 
leisurely exhibit them. The effort to gaze at 
the moving forms became painful. Cortis res- 
olutely dropped his eyes and thought of distant 
places, persons and matters concerning himself. 

Suddenly he looked at the road. Two ladies 
were passing slowly, absorbed in conversation. 
They were perfectly attired in velvet, with 
ample sealskin wraps, and were so entirely dis- 
tinguishable from the people preceding and fol- 
lowing them as to produce on Cortis the effect 
of an optical illusion. He sat upright and 
stared after them. One was elderly, gray- 
haired, refined of feature, and dignified of bear- 
ing ; the other was the girl who had come on 
the previous day to borrow a ‘‘ bright book ” 
from Mr. Carey. 

Cortis watched them until they had passed 
the gate ; then he hastened to his room, rap- 
idly made some changes in his dress, put on 
his hat and overcoat, and hurried after them. 
As they entered the church, he slackened his 
speed, gave them time to be seated, and then 


i8 


SEPARATION 


cautiously opened the door of the little Gothic 
building, and sank into the corner of the last 
pew. His magnet still knelt with bowed head, 
but the general movement and a suppressed 
whisper informed him that the congregation 
proper was aware of his presence. He could 
feel glances leveled at him ; he could hear sen- 
tences read for his benefit. He knew that the 
music was sung to duly impress his city ears 
with country perfection of voice and method. 
He was conscious of the service, read with un- 
affected ease and beautiful fervency of intona- 
tion ; also, of a sermon, of which not a sen- 
tence fixed itself in his memory. 

A coil of nut-brown hair beneath some 
waving feathers, and the profile of a young, 
resolute face, lovely with the tints of health, 
sweet with the beauty of inexperience, ani- 
mated by the imagination, filled his field of 
vision. He closed his eyes to think of their 
owner, and opened them only to see her. 
When the collection was taken up he quietly 
left the church and sauntered to a convenient 


SEPARATION 


19 


distance, where he carelessly lingered until the 
congregation crowded the doorways. Then 
he slowly followed two retreating figures, and 
noticed that they did not stop to exchange 
remarks with friends, that they did not join 
any group going in the same direction, nor 
wait to be overtaken. They again passed the 
rectory, turned the first corner beyond it and 
proceeded along a field-bordered road which 
led to the hills that enclosed the valley with 
its town and outlying farms. A quarter of a 
mile away stood a wide, low yellow house, 
well supplied with porches, and Cortis saw the 
ladies enter the grounds, reach the hall door 
and open it with the air of ownership. Then 
he returned to the rectory. He found every 
one and everything agreeing to promote his 
comfort. His appearance at service had se- 
cretly flattered Mr. Carey, and Mrs. Carey 
unconsciously reflected her husband’s satisfac- 
tion. The dinner was delicious ; pleasant 
topics were discussed by the host and hostess ; 
Cortis listened attentively, but answered ab- 


20 


SEPARATION 


stractedly. As soon as courtesy permitted he 
retired to his own room, and shortly after- 
wards he again left the house. Mrs. Carey 
watched his departure and sighed audibly. 
The collar of his coat was drawn above his 
ears, the peak of his cap met the large green 
shades. 

“ How depressed he seems ! He looks and 
acts as if he did not want to be spoken to. 
He scarcely ate any dinner. Dear me ! if he 
does not grow more cheerful his eyes will not 
improve. I wish we could think of something 
that would interest him.’’ 

Mr. Carey gazed meditatively at his wife : 

“He is completely absorbed. Honor. Per- 
haps his thoughts are pleasant ones. I made 
some additions to the sermon for his benefit. 
I suppose you noticed them.” 

“ Oh, yes. They were very beautiful and 
wonderfully applicable, I thought. He may 
be occupied with them now. I am glad he 
went out ; alone and in the pure air he will be 
able to refiect seriously.” 


SEPARATION 


21 


Mrs. Carey pursued this train of thought 
while enjoying her low chair and the crack- 
ling and blazing of the logs. Her husband 
found his evening sermon and proceeded to 
amplify it. 

Meanwhile, Cortis walked rapidly towards 
the yellow house; but when he reached the 
fence that enclosed its lawn he went slowly 
and observingly by the thickly intertwined 
branches of the shrubbery that rose above the 
top bars. The west porch was aglow with 
sunshine, and a tall woman walked up and 
down, carrying on her shoulder a white-robed 
infant. 

Cortis prolonged his walk and slowly re- 
turned; but the sun was sinking below the 
distant hills, and the nurse and baby had 
disappeared. 

Supper was ready when Cortis reached the 
parsonage, and Mrs. Carey had put on the 
table some of her choice preserves and a real 
pound cake. The rector ate with a relish ; 
he foresaw a satisfactory evening service. 


22 


SEPARATION 


Cortis’s gloom and taciturnity were proof 
against delicacies of any order. He swal- 
lowed food indifferent to substance and flavor, 
and gave no hint as to how or where he in- 
tended to pass his evening. Mr. Carey took 
his wife on one arm, his sermon under the 
other, and left his guest to solve his problems 
in peace and solitude. 

Half an hour afterwards, Cortis silently 
opened the door of the church, entered and 
gazed at the small assemblage of worshipers. 
The lamps burned brightly, the choir chanted 
in shrill unison, some little boys were scuffling 
in the back seats. Cortis regained the pure 
air ; the night shone with the whiteness of the 
earth and the blue, starlit heaven. He now 
went towards the yellow house as if under the 
spell of some irresistible power, and, con- 
cealed by the shrubbery, closely inspected the 
windows. Having concluded that there were 
no sentinels on guard, he turned to the left 
and walked down the lane until he stood op- 
posite a large, well-lighted room. The win- 


SEPARATION 


23 

dow blinds were closed, but the shades had 
not been lowered. Cortis cleared the low 
fence, noiselessly mounted the porch, and, 
stooping, had a full view of the interior. He 
saw a beautifully furnished apartment, taste- 
fully decorated. Books filled the tables; an 
open piano was drawn conveniently near the 
blazing fire on the hearth ; cut fiowers raised 
their heads from pretty receptacles and added 
their fragrance to the pleasant atmosphere. 
Presently a hanging moved to admit the ob- 
ject of Cortis’s curiosity. The curves of her 
slender form were concealed by a shimmering 
gray satin gown, for the shape of which “ Old 
Mother Hubbard ” has been made responsible. 
Cortis admired the fiowing lines of the gar- 
ment, as its wearer tried to entertain herself 
with first, a book, then a song, next a sonata 
of Beethoven’s, finally her own thoughts. 
Her meditations were absorbing ; she sat in a 
great cushioned chair, so placed that Cortis 
could see her features. At times, a lovely 
smile touched them, the eyes grew large and 


24 


SEPARATION 


luminous from the inner fire of immortality. 
Suddenly they filled with tears, the lips below 
them quivered. The woman tried in vain to 
control herself ; she rose and paced the floor, 
struggling with her grief. What was its 
cause ? 

Cortis restrained himself with superhuman 
efforts and held his ground. In his excite- 
ment and persistency he forgot the condition 
of his eyes and his physician’s warnings. He 
did not lose a gesture or a motion of the satin- 
robed figure that fascinated him. This was 
the woman to whom Mrs. Carey would intro- 
duce him in order to release his spirits from 
the bonds of disappointment, enforced idleness 
and despairing doubts of his recovery. What 
could be wrong with this seeming possessor of 
life’s treasures ? Cortis rapidly reviewed the 
ills that flesh is heir to — sickness, poverty, 
loneliness — these could not oppress her. Had 
death robbed her, or was the voice of self-re- 
proach sounding in her ears ? 

A short, sharp sound pierced the stillness. 


SEPARATION 


25 


It was a baby’s cry. The woman stood for a 
second as if paralyzed, then darted from the 
room. Cortis regained the road just in time 
to meet the elderly lady attended by a maid 
carrying her devotional books. He could im- 
agine them entering the pleasant room he had 
been inspecting, and the lines of his mouth 
grew stern and rigid as he returned to the 
parsonage. The sitting-room, to judge from 
the sounds of voices and laughter, was filled 
with guests. Cortis ran up the stairs, shut his 
door on the merriment, and gave himself up 
to meditation. 

The next morning Mrs. Carey confronted 
his reserve with new weapons. 

“I have an invitation for you, Mr. Cortis, 
and you must consider it before declining it. 
It is to an ‘ afternoon tea ’ to be given in your 
honor.” 

“My honor ! ” 

“Yes. We have a very hospitable, charm- 
ing friend, Mrs. Page. As soon as she heard 
of your presence here, she was anxious to meet 


26 


SEPARATION 


you and make you feel at home among us. 
She has named next Thursday afternoon from 
four to seven, and I agreed to let her know 
your decision this morning, as she wants to 
invite every one in the neighborhood that you 
would care to become acquainted with.’’ 

“ She is very kind, very thoughtful,” began 
Cortis. 

“ I told her that your eyes were not strong 
and that you came here to rest them. She at 
once proposed the afternoon for a reception. 
You avoid sunlight and artificial light, and 
people will be prepared for your smoked 
glasses.” 

“You leave me no loop-hole,” Cortis said, 
feeling his heart throbbing and his cheeks 
flushing. “I accept with” — his voice broke, 
he seemed surprised at his own words. 

Mrs. Carey laughed at his hesitation and 
ignored his nervousness. 

“With thanks,” he murmured after some 
seconds. 

“ And hopes of pleasure,” she added, so as- 


SEPARATION 


27 


tonished at gaining her point thus easily and 
quickly that she rose and went towards the 
door, speaking merrily : 

“I must carry your message before you 
change you mind. I am charmed with your 
goodness. We shall have a delightful gather- 
ing. I am sure you will meet a few congenial 
people.” 

“ I won’t change my mind,” Cortis said as 
she nodded and left him. 


CHAPTEK III 


Having agreed to endure if not to enjoy, 
Cortis entered Mrs. Page’s drawing-room on 
the following Thursday afternoon, and quickly 
made the acquaintance of the prominent peo- 
ple in the town. Every one asked him the 
same questions, and volunteered similar in- 
formation. He at last found himself in a cor- 
ner somewhat shaded by a hanging, where he 
had a cup of delicious tea and listened to the 
pleasant speeches of a very pretty girl, the 
only child of his hostess. 

“ I was so afraid that you wouldn’t come, 
Mr. Cortis, and now I am worried because 
Mrs. Bemerton and Mrs. Aston are not here. 
They promised to come.” 

Cortis drank some tea and then examined 
the small Japanese cup with much interest. 
Miss Page continued : 

“ Have you met them, Mr. Cortis ? ” 

28 


SEPARATION 


29 


“ I hope to have that pleasure. These fig- 
ures are very quaint. Don’t you enjoy study- 
ing them ? ” 

Miss Page’s brown eyes sparkled with ex- 
pectation. She glanced towards the door, 
now darkening with figures. Oh, here they 
are ! I am so glad ! I thought perhaps you 
were acquainted with them. They are New 
York people, and so pleasant. I wish mamma 
would get through introducing all our town 
bores to them. They will be so delighted to 
meet you and hear of their own city.” 

“ Is it customary for people to remain here 
through the winter ? ” 

Miss Page laughed. 

“Occasionally people stay because the cli- 
mate is so dry. They say that Mrs. Aston is 
here for her health. I suppose they are right, 
for I am sure that no sane person would spend 
a winter here for pleasure.” 

Cortis assumed an air of gravity. “What 
am I to think ? The town seems to be well 
filled with sensible people.” 


30 


SEPARATION 


“ They can’t leave it. It takes money to go 
to the city and have a good time.” 

A rustling of silks and satins, and Mrs. 
Page’s voice made Cortis rise and face a trio 
of women. Two bowed distantly as the in- 
troductions were given, and then Cortis found 
himself included in a talkative group where 
the art of listening did him much service. 

When he raised his eyes behind his smoked 
glasses, he could see the profile of the younger 
guest, and he naturally caught all her remarks. 

He noted that she contented herself by 
answering direct questions, and thus he learned 
that she found the country very dull in win- 
ter ; that she was quite occupied in caring for 
her little son, who was commencing to walk, 
and that for the present she intended to remain 
in the town. 

Her quiet manner and frank utterance were 
charming. She called Mrs. Bemerton “ aunt,” 
and alluded to her parents and her home with 
them in Hew York. Mrs. Carey soon drifted 
towards this particular group, Mrs. Page was 


SEPARATION 


31 

obliged to leave it ; then Mrs. Bemerton and 
Mrs. Carey discussed the few topics that inter- 
ested strangers, and Miss Page and Mrs. Aston 
wandered into the mysteries of crazy patch- 
work and its stitches. Mr. Carey now claimed 
Cortis and led him into an adjoining room, 
his opinion of certain public questions being 
in demand. Mrs. Carey looked after him and 
sighed. 

“ I feel so sorry for that young man ! she 
said, glancing at the faces around her. “ He 
is almost helpless, his sight is so injured by 
overstudy.” 

“ Isn’t it dreadful ? ” asked Miss Page with 
much sympathy in her voice and expression. 
“Won’t he recover the use of his eyes ? ” 

“ It is possible ; but he has no idea of the 
length of time they will take to get strong. 
My son, who is his physician, advised him to 
come here and live in the open air. He is very 
much depressed; sometimes I think he has 
other troubles that weigh upon him.” 

“ I should think the one you describe would 


SEPARATION 


32 

be quite enough to make any one blue. I 
should go crazy if I could not use my eyes,” 
said Miss Page. 

“ It must be very trying to have to live with 
him,” remarked Mrs. Bemerton. “Does he 
sit all day with those glasses on ? ” 

“ Oh, no 1 ” Mrs. Carey said quickly. “ He 
is out the greater part of the time, and I keep 
the rooms darkened so that he can go about 
the house without shading his eyes.” 

“Very good of you, I am sure,” said Mrs. 
Bemerton. “ Do they ache much ? ” 

“ If he looks steadily at anything, they pain 
him.” 

Mrs. Aston seemed about to make a remark, 
but thought better of her intention. It oc- 
curred to Mrs. Carey that these ladies had no 
sympathy to spare for strangers. But, if they 
were reserved and indifferent, she had to ad- 
mit to herself that Cortis was stiff and silent. 
She was disappointed, yet she knew from ex- 
perience that delightful intimacies follow no 
formula. 


SEPARATION 


33 


On the way home, Cortis was eager to learn 
if there were any good houses for rent in the 
town. This inquiry opened a new field for 
Mrs. Carey’s thoughts and sympathies. 

“Would you really be willing to settle here 
for any length of time ? ” She was leaning on 
Cortis’s arm, and she raised her eyes to his face 
while speaking. However, his smoked glasses 
and his hat-brim and coat-collar were as effect- 
ive as a mask. “ I wish you would conclude 
to remain here. There are several houses to 
be had, and the rents are very small.” 

“ The best house to be had now is somewhat 
out of the town, and it has a very good farm 
attached,” said Mr. Carey, thoughtfully. “ Are 
you anything of a farmer ? ” 

Cortis laughed. 

“Hot even theoretically. I suppose the 
ground could have a rest. The house is the 
only consideration.” 

“You can look at it whenever you wish. 
The key was left with us.” 

“ Isn’t this a very sudden resolution ? ” 


34 


SEPARATION 


asked Mrs. Carey. ‘‘ I thought you felt com- 
fortable at the parsonage ; besides, you are in 
my care.” 

‘‘You are too kind; there is danger of my 
trespassing on your good nature. You must 
let me explain. Your son advised me to live 
in the country, if possible. I can do my work 
here, if my eyes recover strength. If they 
remain weak, why, this is the best place for 
me. ‘ God made the country.’ No doubt, I 
can find occupation and amusement in the 
open air. If rents are low, a bachelor’s estab- 
lishment will be easily managed.” 

“ I wonder what Lowell will think,” Mrs. 
Carey said to her husband when Cortis had 
left them in the sitting-room. “ Taking a 
house and living alone will seem such a strange 
move, and I think it is a foolish whim.” 

“An inspiration, I call it. My dear, the 
young fellow has all his time on his hands. 
Something to do will be a blessing, if he only 
potters about and makes his house habitable. 
Don’t offer too much assistance. Let him for- 


SEPARATION 


35 

get his affliction in the search for physical 
necessities. When is he going to look at the 
house ? ” 

“ In the morning.” 

I am delighted. Now don’t raise obstacles. 
Let him judge for himself. A good farmfer 
could make a nice living on that place.” 

“ I hope Mr. Cortis will hire it. I am sure 
he would be quite an addition in this town if 
he had his health. Lowell is devoted to him, 
so I suppose we have had no opportunity to 
form a correct idea of his character.” 

“ I am very glad he has decided to act. I 
shall watch his efforts with interest.” 

“ If he settles here, we must try to interest 
him in the poor people round about.” 

‘T wouldn’t bring up the subject. Honor. 
Let him discover for himself.” 


CHAPTEE lY 


The next morning Cortis rose with a de- 
lightful sense of the coming of new experi- 
ences, enjoyed his breakfast, and soon after- 
wards, key in hand, started to inspect the 
desirable house. Mr. and Mrs. Carey went 
with him, eager to point out to him the ad- 
vantages of the place, and see what impression 
it would make upon him. 

The weather was mild, the sun was busy in 
the cause of spring, and Cortis was at once in- 
terested in the fact that Mr. Carey took the 
road on which Mrs. Aston lived. Having 
passed her home, the little party made its own 
path in the snow for some distance, and finally 
halted in front of an irregular house. While 
Mr. Carey debated as to the depth of the snow 
between the gate and the porch, Cortis in- 
spected the broken blinds, the doubtful roof, 
36 


SEPARATION 


37 

and the worn paint. Several tall trees with 
wide-spreading branches stood guard over the 
decay and desolation of emptiness. 

“You must not judge by appearances,” said 
Mrs. Carey, smiling at Cortis. “ In summer 
this place is quite presentable ; the foliage is 
like charity. Property is so cheap here that 
owners will not spend a dollar to keep a house 
attractive.” 

“Those are good trees, and the piazza is 
very wide,” said Cortis. “ Let us get through 
this snow.” 

He broke a path as he spoke, and reached 
the front door, which he opened quickly, and 
turning offered Mrs. Carey his hand. 

“Welcome,” he said gently. 

“ Why, you haven’t seen a thing,” she said, 
laughing. 

“The outside will answer every purpose. 
The inside will depend upon me.” 

“ That is sound doctrine,” said Mr. Carey, 
and Cortis began opening dusty doors and 
windows. The light revealed deep fireplaces 


SEPARATION 


38 

in the larger rooms, and unsuspected cup- 
boards ; also the holes in the floors, and the 
cracks in the walls and ceilings. 

“ I shall only put a few rooms in order,” 
said Cortis, as he led the way up-stairs. “ I 
suppose I ought to sleep up here.” 

“It would be safer,” said Mrs. Carey. 
“ This is the choice room ; its windows face 
the south. You’ll have a lovely view of the 
river in summer, and if you put a good stove 
in the sitting-room down-stairs, the heat can 
be utilized by having what we call a drum in 
here.” 

“ Stoves are the first things in order,” said 
Cortis, leaning against the door and fixing his 
eyes on Mrs. Carey’s. “ Now, if I combine my 
dining and sitting-rooms, two good ones will 
do. One in the kitchen, one in the sitting- 
room, I get three heated rooms.” 

“You can have four. Save the heat from 
the kitchen stove.” 

“ That is so. The stove man is my objective 
point.” 


SEPARATION 


39 


“ 111 take you to his shop. There you can 
buy all your kitchen utensils. But you will 
want a good servant, and she ought to come 
and clean the rooms as soon as the stoves are 
put up.” 

“ I shall have to ask you to help me, Mrs. 
Carey. Can I find a suitable person here ? ” 

Mr. Carey laughed, but he spoke earnestly : 

“Mrs. Carey will be delighted if you will 
employ one of the poor women who struggle 
. for existence in this town.” 

“Yes, indeed, Mr. Cortis. There is Mrs. 
Summers. She is a neat housekeeper and a 
good cook. She wouldn’t stay at night, be- 
cause she has her family to think of, but she 
could come every morning in time to start the 
fires and prepare your breakfast. Your work 
will be very light, once you are settled, and 
she will do it for two dollars a week. I sup- 
pose you will want to find out what your 
monthly expenses will average. The house 
will be eight dollars a month without the 
farm ” 


40 


SEPARATION 


‘‘ Heavens ! ” cried Cortis. “ You take away 
my breath. What, eight dollars a month for 
a house as large as this ? Why, there are cer- 
tainly fifteen rooms in it.” 

“ Oh, well, this is not Hew York ! If you 
want the farm, the rent will be twenty for 
house and farm. This is the place to rest 
from work economically.” 

“So I should suppose. But indeed, Mrs. 
Carey, this is all charming news, if it has a 
touch of fairy lore. I want to rest, and I 
must do it economically. I think a few rolls 
of matting, several good rugs, and some inex- 
pensive furniture will make my comfort per- 
fect. How shall I ever return your kindness ! 
I feel so much encouraged by this morning’s 
discoveries.” 

“ Bravo ! You will be well in a short time 
if you retain your present frame of mind,” 
said Mr. Carey, turning to leave the empty 
room. “Don’t send for any books; just eat 
and sleep indoors. Get a musical instrument 
that will employ your fingers and soothe your 


SEPARATION 


41 

ears. Take the farm. You can have it 
ploughed very soon now, and it will give you 
all the occupation you will need.” 

Cortis pressed Mr. Carey’s hand, and in si- 
lence the three regained the snow-covered 
road. 

“ It does seem wonderful, this prospect of a 
home, recovery, and outdoor work,” cried 
Cortis, with boyish delight. “ I must fit up a 
den for Lowell, and insist upon a visit from 
him. I want him to look at my eyes, and 
that will make an excuse that he cannot re- 
fuse to take advantage of.” 

“We can’t induce him to pay us a visit,” 
said Mrs. Carey. “ So if you can lure him 
here. I’ll — let me see, what can I do for you ? 
— I’ll find you another house ” 

“ Oh, now, Mrs. Carey, surely we can offer 
some irresistible attraction.” 

“ His profession absorbs him. Ho doubt 
your need of his skill will bring him, but I 
don’t believe that I could coax him into leav- 
ing his cherished practice.” 


42 


SEPARATION 


“ Do you know, I have had a theory that 
Lowell kept his heart up here,” Cortis said 
after a long pause. Mrs. Carey looked 
amused. 

“ I wish I could say that your theory was 
correct. He has outlived the susceptible age, 
and his father and I are afraid that without 
any premeditation he will become an old 
bachelor. I suppose he comes in contact with 
the superficial in life, because, when I brought 
up the subject, he said he could not afford to 
marry. He says that in Hew York moderate 
living is expensive, and girls want so much in 
a husband. They must have so many luxuries 
to make them happy.” 

‘‘ Everything is at high pressure,” said Mr. 
Carey. 

‘‘ And here stagnation is the rule,” remarked 
Mrs. Carey. “ Lowell sees the extremes of 
our social system ; neither suits him. We are 
troubled and disappointed ; but, unless mar- 
riage would add to his happiness, why urge it 
upon him ? He reasons that it would simply 


SEPARATION 


43 

increase his cares. His father and I are old- 
fashioned enough to believe that he could find 
a girl who would be satisfied with simple sur- 
roundings in the atmosphere that love creates. 
Lowell tells us plainly that we are primitive — 
in fact, old fogies.” 

“I think Lowell is right.” Cortis spoke 
bitterly. “ Love is the pleasing excuse for 
marriage ; but this is a material age. From 
childhood, girls learn to crave luxuries. A 
husband who can make money is the means 
for the gratification of their desires. If he 
fails to get gold, love vanishes. Devotion and 
self-abnegation in women are traditions.” 

“ Why, you are worse than Lowell. Dear 
me, what heresy ! Why, you need conver- 
sion.” 

“ Yes, sadly. Who will undertake the 
work ? ” 

“ Oh, some nice girl will do it uncon- 
sciously.” 

They were within a few yards of Mrs. 
Aston’s gate, and a pretty picture was before 


44 


SEPARATION 


them. Mrs. Aston, in creamy, flowing dra- 
peries, was helping the nurse to lift the baby- 
carriage from the porch to the flagged walk 
beneath. The sun shone on a vision of a fair 
little face rising from a sea of lace-trimmed 
pillows and fleecy covers. Mrs. Carey stopped 
at the gate. 

“ Oh, the little beauty ! We must take a 
look at him.” Cortis raised his hat and passed 
on in silence. Presently he heard Mrs. Carey 
speaking to him, and came to a halt. “ Such a 
lovely child ! I wanted you to see him.” 

“ The glare was intolerable.” 

“ I forgot about your eyes, and Mrs. Aston 
was bareheaded, so it is just as well that you 
did not wait. You must have a chance to 
look at the baby ; I know it does one good to 
be near an infant. I visit all the mothers in 
town, whether they are parishioners or not. 
Children are so restful ; they know only the 
present, and how they enjoy it ! The amuse- 
ment of the moment engrosses them.” 

“ It isn’t lessened by mistrust of the future,” 


SEPARATION 


45 


said Cortis. “ I can appreciate such pleasure. 
I remember when I reveled in it. I have 
never been thrown with children, as I was the 
baby of the family.” 

“ People don’t realize what they lose in life 
by not bringing children into their plans for 
enjoying it. The little ones are left too much 
to servants, and the exquisite fancies of child- 
hood are told to no purpose,” Mr. Carey said 
gravely. 

“You are right,” replied Cortis. “I have 
several nephews and nieces ; but I only see 
them occasionally, in full dress, or on the 
street with their nurses. It never occurred to 
me that they might have ideas that would 
help me or do me good to hear. I thought I 
did my duty by them if I sent them toys at 
Christmas and remembered birthdays*” 

“You are unusually thoughtful to perform 
your duty to that extent,” Mrs. Carey said. 
“ I must interest you in some of the children 
that charm my leisure hours.” 

“Do you think they would beguile me? 


SEPARATION 


46 

Ah, Mrs. Carey, when you are playing with 
children, your own heart is at peace with the 
world.” 

Cortis sighed and turned away. 

Mrs. Carey put her hand on his arm. 

‘‘Sometimes we strain our eyes searching 
for what is at hand, if we would but look in 
the right place,” she said cheerfully. “ You 
have commenced the day so well that you 
must take a bright view of your condition and 
possibilities. Play baby for the time being. 
Become absorbed in stoves, and let the future 
take care of itself.” 

“ That reminds me that I promised to meet 
a carpenter at the church this morning.” 

Mr. Carey turned down a short cut, and his 
wife and Cortis proceeded to the tin shop. 

Mrs. Aston, careless of the weather, had 
stood on the porch, gazing after the Careys 
and their guest. 


CHAPTER Y 


The drawing-room was aglow with color 
and sunshine. Mrs. Bemerton looked up from 
a brilliant silken poppy which she was slowly 
developing on a piece of old gold plush. The 
stillness was suspicious. She tapped on the 
pane with her thimbled finger. 

‘fCome in, Marion. You’ll take cold out 
there.” Some seconds passed. “Marion, how 
imprudent you are ! Why, I can feel the 
draught from the door.” 

There was a movement on the porch ; the 
street door was closed noiselessly from within, 
and Mrs. Bemerton was aware that Mrs. 
Aston was standing irresolute in the hall. 
“ You look as if you had seen a ghost,” she 
continued, as the girl crossed the room and 
stood watching the blazing logs in the fire- 
place. “ Sit down and warm your feet.” 
Mrs. Aston drew a chair near the hearth and 
47 


48 SEPARATION 

sank into it. Mrs. Bemerton turned over her 
silks with her white jeweled fingers. “Did 
the Careys pass just now ? ” 

“Yes.” 

“ Was Mr. Cortis with them ? ” 

“Yes.” 

Mrs. Bemerton commenced a stem, and em- 
broidered steadily as she talked. 

“I suppose there are millions of square 
miles in the United States, yet chance brings 
him here. If you read of such a coincidence, 
you would say it was absurd.” 

“It is decidedly unpleasant, auntie. He 
must have heard that I was here.” 

“Oh, impossible! Marion, your father 
took every precaution. Ho — he is under Dr. 
Carey’s care, and the doctor naturally sent 
him where he was sure to be well treated. I 
wonder how long he will remain at the par- 
sonage. I never knew that Lowell Carey 
came from the country.” 

“Well, I’ve never met him, auntie. Oh, 
dear ! I wish I knew what to do.” 


SEPARATION 


49 


“ You were grumbling at the monotony of 
your existence, and I was very well contented 
to be quiet and have an opportunity to think. 
I suppose you should write to your father 
to-day.” 

Mrs. Aston moved uneasily. 

“ I have been awake all night debating the 
question.” 

“ iTo wonder you look pale. What do you 
decide ?. ” 

“He has had so much worry and expense 
that I think I will act as if Mr. Cortis were a 
million of miles away. I can avoid him. 
There is no necessity for mentioning him to 
papa.” 

“ If you feel sure of yourself, Marion, you 
might as well prove it now as in the future. 
As long as disagreeable people are in the 
world, we must school ourselves to meet them 
with dignified self-respect. I don’t see why 
you need make yourself wretched, lying 
awake to think about a worthless creature, 
just when you were really recovering your 


50 


SEPARATION 


looks and spirits. You were beautiful yester- 
day, when we entered Mrs. Page’s doors.” 

“Indeed?” Mrs. Aston’s cheeks flushed. 
“ I am glad, for dear papa’s sake, that you 
thought so. It was of him that I was think- 
ing last night. He is so anxious about me ; 
he has made me so comfortable here, and I 
am just beginning to feel an interest in the 
place and the people. Suppose we agree not 
to think of Mr. Cortis, not to speak of him, or 
write about him.” 

“ I will promise to ignore his very existence, 
Marion. If we are brought, as we were yes- 
terday, face to face with him, we can act with 
reserve. We tested our self-control very 
thoroughly before those people. I was as- 
tonished at your ease of manner.” 

“ I am so glad.” 

Mrs. Aston rose, took a work-basket from 
the table, and, sitting down near Mrs. Bemer- 
ton, began to mend the lace on a small dress. 
Mrs. Bemerton watched her. 

“ How careless your washerwoman is f 


SEPARATION 


51 

That lovely edging should outlast several 
skirts ! Why, yes, Marion, I was so delighted 
with you that I was just going to write and 
describe the scene to your father; but, on 
second thoughts, I concluded to talk with you 
when we could take a dispassionate view of 
every one’s side. There is another great hole ! 
She must pin up the dresses by the trimming. 
Reggy won’t have a whole dress to his 
name ! ” 

“ I suppose I ought to go at once and show 
her this,” said Mrs. Aston, staring helplessly 
at the rent in the delicate threads. 

“ I wouldn’t put such expensive clothes on a 
baby; but if Reggy must wear them, why, 
you should try and make your servants take 
care of them. If you overlook this, you need 
not speak later.” 

Mrs. Aston sighed, folded the dress, and put 
away the basket. 

“ If I hurry, I may prevent more destruc- 
tion. Dear me, what unnecessary work 
comes to us ! ” 


52 


SEPARATION 


“Yes, trifles do affect us and swallow up 
valuable time.” 

Mrs. Aston had a long walk in prospect, 
and the thaw rendered it slow and tiresome. 
Ponds ankle-deep at the crossroads made 
short circuits necessary, and she was very 
glad when the washerwoman’s house was 
-reached. Several children were playing in 
the porch, and a large man sat on a bench 
mending a fishing net. His well-patched gar- 
ments had faded to shadjes unknown to tech- 
nologists; his sunken, bloodshot eyes were 
fixed in a dull stare on Mrs. Aston’s face, as 
she pushed open the garden gate and picked 
her steps through the soft, melting snow that 
filled the path to the house. 

“Good-morning, Mr. Watkins,” Mrs. Aston 
said, with the utmost respect in her tone, and 
a keen appreciation of the fact that she was 
addressing a freeborn American, the possessor 
of a wife and four children. “ I want to see 
Mrs. Watkins for a moment.” 

“ She went to the store. She ought to be 


SEPARATION 


53 

back pretty soon, now. It’s near lunch time,” 
said Mr. Watkins, drawing the twine through 
the broken meshes. 

The children had formed in a group, and 
Marion observed their broken shoes, thin 
cotton clothes, nondescript jackets, and 
worsted hoods. The eldest, a girl of ten, 
now spoke in a thin, high voice : 

“ Will you come in and wait for ma ? ” 

She opened the door, and Mrs. Aston en- 
tered Mrs. Watkins’s parlor, and, having 
gladly seated herself, found that she was 
near the window and commanded a view of 
the porch and its occupants. Two of the 
children disappeared and returned carrying 
an old broom and a foreshortened shovel. 
Watkins now made several efforts to steady 
himself on his feet, and succeeding, with the 
aid of the shovel, began to throw the snow 
from the path, while his daughter, bring- 
ing up the rear and wielding the broom, 
completed the work of improvement. Mrs. 
Watkins was in sight; the corners of her 


SEPARATION 


54 

shawl floated like red plaid banners in the 
breeze, her thin figure drooped with the 
weight of an overflowing basket, and her 
features expressed the unspoken fears that 
filled her thoughts and crushed her soul. A 
smile as rare as its cause transfigured her 
face as she reached the gate and set the 
basket on the flag. Then she drew a long 
breath. 

“ Why, Jim, how good of you ! ” 

The children were joyfully emptying the 
basket and retreating with the brown bun- 
dles. The parents followed, and presently 
Mrs. Aston heard a mingling of voices in 
whispered dispute and the rattle of tins. 
Then Mrs. Watkins appeared, flushed and 
nervous, and Mrs. Aston felt embarrassed 
and anxious to perform her errand and leave 
the Watkinses in sole possession of their 
family jars. 

“ Oh, Mrs. Watkins, I am so sorry to trouble 
you, but look at this dress. Do be more care- 
ful in future.” 


SEPARATION 


55 

Mrs. Aston spread the garment on her 
knees, and Mrs. Watkins bent to examine it. 

“ I didn’t notice that it was torn till I began 
to iron it. I suppose something happened to 
it after I washed it and hung it up.” 

Mrs. Watkins 'was distressed. She had a 
husband and four children for whose actions 
she was held responsible. She was promising 
extra caution -when Mr. Watkins, carrying a 
dish of fish, shuffled into the room. 

“O JimI” 

“ How, I know what I’m doing. These are 
fresh. Mrs. Aston may want a mess for break- 
fast. How do you know ? ” 

“Yes, indeed,” said Mrs. Aston, quickly. 
“ How much will they cost ? ” She opened her 
purse. Watkins’s eyes gleamed and followed 
the motion of her hands. “ There’s three 
pounds good weight in them. You can have 
them for seventy-five cents. Twenty-five 
cents a pound is cheap for them.” 

“Here it is. Will you bring them to 
me?” 


SEPARATION 


56 

Watkins held out a great brown hand, on 
which Mrs. Aston dropped the coins ; the huge 
fingers closed greedily on them, and as Wat- 
kins stumbled towards the kitchen, Mrs. Aston 
gained the street door and the pure air. Her 
ulster felt uncomfortable, the sun was high and 
cloudless, the dripping of thawing snow was 
forming small streams along the sloping sides 
of the road. A narrow brook, which had been 
ice-bound for weeks, was again reflecting 
heaven’s blue while musically pursuing its way 
to the nearest creek. Mrs. Aston lingered to 
enjoy it, and contrast nature with human na- 
ture much to the disadvantage of the latter. 
Finally she turned her steps homeward, and in 
her abstraction put her foot into a hole, fell 
forward, and rested on her knees in an icy 
pool. As she felt in vain for some resistance, 
she saw two arms meet under her own, and she 
was lifted to the side of the road, where the 
ice was still firm. Then Mr. Cortis released 
her, raised his hat and bowed formally. Mrs. 
Aston’s cheeks turned to roses, her eyes sought 


SEPARATION 


57 

her muff, her lips moved, but no sound was 
audible. 

“ If you will take my arm and walk rapidly, 
you may avoid a severe cold,’’ said Cortis, 
glancing at her skirts. “Your feet must be 
wet.” 

“ Yes, but I never take cold from wet feet.” 
Mrs. Aston clasped her hands in her muff, and 
resumed her walk. “Thank you. Such a 
stupid performance ! ” 

“ Which, for instance ? ” Cortis kept beside 
her. 

“ Mine, of course ! I am so provoked with 
myself.” 

“ Anybody might slip where you did.” 

“ Oh, I don’t mean that ! I was thinking 
about that unfortunate Mr. Watkins. I gave 
him some money.” 

“ Yery fortunate for him, I should say.” 

“ You don’t know anything about him. He 
drinks, and he was scarcely able to stand. I 
suppose he’ll go and get more drunk than ever.” 

“Undoubtedly.” 


SEPARATION 


58 

“ Then he’ll come with those horrid fish I 1 
don’t care for them, and auntie won’t touch 
them when she hears that I bought them from 
him. She despises such men. He does noth- 
ing for his family ; he hunts and fishes just 
enough to supply himself with liquor.” 

“ What did you call him ? ” 

“Watkins.” 

“ Does his wife support him ? ” 

“Yes; she washes.” 

“Mrs. Carey made some allusion to the 
women here, and their struggle for existence.” 

“The men are idle and given to drink. 
They vote, you know, and politics absorb all 
the brains they possess. There are petty offices 
to be filled ; they elect each other, turn about, 
so as to divide the spoils, and when out of 
office their wives take care of them.” 

Cortis laughed heartily, and after a second 
or two, Mrs. Aston joined him. 

“ I am sure I don’t know what amuses you. 
I am anxious to help Mrs. Watkins ; but I see 
that no matter how much I may sympathize 


SEPARATION 


59 

with her, I am not wise enough to set about 
assisting her in the best way. I should have 
refused to buy those fish. By giving him 
money you see I have added to her troubles.” 

“ The way to really aid her is to go to the 
root of her misfortune. I never saw her, but 
I respect her. She defines the word ‘ wife ’ in 
the old-fashioned manner. Now, if you can 
arouse her husband’s self-respect, by furnishing 
him with steady work, worth the doing, your 
object will be attained.” 

Mrs. Aston’s eyes were downcast. Cortis 
had on his smoked glasses and gazed straight 
ahead at the treacherous ice and snow. She 
spoke thoughtfully : “ I see that your advice is 
sensible.” 

“ Oh, it is always possible to solve the prob- 
lems of others.” 

“You haven’t told me what to do with the 
fish.” 

Cortis felt his muscles relaxing into a smile. 
“ Send them to the parsonage. Mr. Carey is 
very fond of them.” 


6o 


SEPARATION 


“Thank you. doubt Watkins can stag- 
ger that much farther. Mr. Cortis, may I — I 
want to ask you a question. You won’t be 
offended ? ” 

“ Ask it.” 

“ Are your eyes improving ? ” 

“ I don’t know. I can’t tell.” His features 
hardened. 

“ I am very sorry for you.” Her voice soft- 
ened. “ I should not have spoken about them.” 

Cortis looked at her. “It doesn’t matter. 
I am going to try solitude. I find that meet- 
ing strangers increases my nervousness and 
simply retards recovery.” 

“Yes, yes — of course. I understand.” 

“ I am very sorry if you do.” 

Mrs. Aston glanced at the stern, set face on 
a line with her own, and then she could not 
think of any remark that seemed sensible and 
yet sympathetic. 

The silence, strange to say, did not cause 
embarrassment. She had an impression that 
her companion was reading her thoughts, and 


SEPARATION 


6i 


she wished that his were not inscrutable. The 
effort to walk was growing very tiresome, yet 
she was not anxious to reach home. The dis- 
tance, however, was gradually traversed. 
Cortis held open her gate, and then continued 
his walk. 

Mrs. Bemerton was not visible ; so Mrs. 
Aston hurried to her room, and, indifferent to 
her wet skirts, watched Cortis until he entered 
his lately acquired house. Surprised, inter- 
ested, and somewhat excited by what she saw, 
Mrs. Aston dressed for lunch. 

“ What are you meditating ? You have not 
told me if you enjoyed your walk,” said Mrs. 
Bemerton. “I thought you would find an 
appetite.” 

“ So I did, and after lunch would you like a 
sleigh-ride ? I want to stay in the air ; it is so 
fresh and invigorating.” 

“We agreed not to mention him,” Mrs. 
Aston kept saying to herself, and she held to 
her promise. 


CHAPTEE YI 


Mes. Carey beamed with happiness. Her 
son was coming to see her, and, strange to say, 
he had not as usual limited his visit. He would 
reach home late on Saturday night. On Sun- 
day, if not too tired, he would draw her arm 
in his, and they would slowly walk to church. 
There she would sit in her sheltered corner 
pew, and with Lowell beside her and his father 
in the chancel, she would return thanks for her 
blessings, and humbly wonder what she had 
done to deserve them. 

For Monday evening she was arranging a 
pleasant little company. Hearts, like sentinels, 
are often captured when on guard, and Mrs. 
Carey was feeding certain hopes regarding 
Lowell’s matrimonial interests. They danced 
through her brain while he was kissing her 
in the porch, during supper, and even when 

the little family sat around the wood-fire in the 
62 


SEPARATION 63 

drawing-room and discussed the motive of his 
visit. 

Lowell Carey was tall, thin, and old-looking 
for his thirty years. He had worked dili- 
gently, and his reputation as an oculist was es- 
tablished. 

He listened attentively to everything that 
concerned Cortis, and then consulted his watch. 

“Yes, it is too late,’’ he said, meeting his 
mother’s glance. “ Where did you say he has 
camped out ? ” 

“In the old Wallis house. He has made 
himself perfectly comfortable, Lowell. He 
seemed so happy in the idea of going there, 
that we did not oppose his plan. Do you know 
much about him ? ” 

“ Hothing beyond his need of rest. He never 
volunteered any information, and I concluded 
not to inquire his history. Perhaps he has 
none. He is a civil engineer by profession, 
and he overworked his eyes. I felt convinced 
that he needed care and sympathy, so I sent 
him to you.” 


SEPARATION 


64 

Perhaps we were wrong to let him go.” 

“ I’ll send him back if I think it necessary.” 

“ Then my conscience will be at peace,” 
said Mrs. Carey. “ I was growing attached to 
him, in spite of his reticence and depression.” 

Lowell laughed. 

‘‘ I can understand that, for he attracted me. 
I have spent many an hour wondering about 
him. Still I resolved that his confidence 
should come spontaneously.” 

“ How old is he ? ” asked Mr. Carey. 

“ About my age, but he looks younger. Did 
you ever see his eyes ? ” 

“Yes. Aren’t they beautiful ? ” said Mrs. 
Carey. 

“ Lovely. They are so honest — like a child’s. 
They won my heart. I must save their sight.” 

Lowell rose and walked back and forth, lost 
in his own thoughts. His parents left him 
thus, feeling that they had learned the secret 
of his success in his profession. 

Early on the next morning they heard him 
leave the house, and quickly realized that he 


SEPARATION 65 

had gone to see Cortis. Dr. Carey went 
rapidly along the well-known road, noting the 
signs of the season and gratefully inhaling the 
sweet morning air. The leaf buds were un- 
folding, here and there a venturesome robin 
prospected for food and shelter, and at inter- 
vals a flash of dazzling color proclaimed the 
presence of the bluebirds. The appearance of 
Mrs. Aston-s house excited his curiosity; it 
was like recognizing an old friend given to 
shabby attire, in a new and most becoming 
costume. Hugging this unexpected pleasure, 
he pursued his way to the “ Wallis ” property, 
and was delighted to perceive that here also 
the genius of improvement was in possession. 
High ladders and some scaffolding suggested 
an impervious roof and fresh paint. The 
fence-posts were perpendicular ; he could recall 
them when bending politely to the passer-by. 
The trees had been judiciously trimmed ; new 
trellises supported the graceful vines, whose 
summer shadows would turn the porches into 
cool retreats. 


66 


SEPARATION 


Dr. Carey was opening the gate when Cor- 
tis, in gown and slippers, appeared in the door- 
way. 

“ So you are up. I expected the pleasure of 
rousing you from a sound morning sleep.’’ 

‘‘I am too fond of the fresh air.” Carey 
followed Cortis into the sitting-room. The 
breakfast-table was set, the aroma of coffee 
was agreeable. ‘‘You see, I have my break- 
fast without delay ; then I go out. How, off 
with your coat. Mrs. Summers is bringing in 
some poached eggs on toast.” 

Carey obeyed orders, and relished the edi- 
bles. The room was light, but devoid of all 
glare. Cortis wore no shades, his features 
were mobile, he laughed heartily at times, and 
eagerly described his daily duties. Carey 
watched him attentively and listened quietly. 

“Why did you send for me, Cortis ? ” 

“ Because I want your advice after you have 
examined my eyes. They look all right, but I 
can’t use them beyond what you see. I can 
direct work, that is all.” 


SEPARATION 


67 


“ How about sunshine ? ’’ 

“ I can’t bear it.” 

“ You are much happier.” 

“ I have something to do that occupies my 
thoughts.” 

“ I see you are taking pity on the old place 
here.” 

“ Oh, my gratitude has to find expression. 
Isn’t this room comfortable ? Once I may 
send for books, it will be complete. You see, 
each window frames a lovely, varying picture, 
at sunrise, noon, and sunset. Up-stairs the 
views are still better ; the river comes into the 
landscape. When my repairs and improve- 
ments are made, this place will be one for a 
man to covet.” 

“ Just sit here and talk while I satisfy my 
professional curiosity,” said Carey, placing a 
chair and producing a leather case. “I see 
that the next house has been going through 
a transformation scene. Who is living 
there ? ” 

“Some people from Hew Tork. Your 


68 SEPARATION 

mother can give you particulars; she visits 
them.” 

Capital ! Bravo ! It does me good to see 
these old places appreciated. When I was a 
boy, I was at home in them, and knew every 
square inch of them. Well, my boy, you have 
nothing to complain of. Your eyes have im- 
proved more rapidly than I thought they 
would. Now, do not relax your vigilance; 
make no experiments. Don’t let anything 
tempt you to use them.” 

Cortis’s face lengthened. 

“ Yet you think they are better I ” 

“ Decidedly. I told you it would be a slow 
progress.” 

Cortis mechanically moved as directed while 
Carey satisfied himself as to the correctness of 
this theory and treatment. 

“What did you want me to advise you 
about ? My wisdom is at your service, gratis.” 

“ Shall I go on with the farm ? If I am able 
to return to the city before harvest time, I see 
no use in planting to any extent.” 


SEPARATION 


69 

“ Farm, hy all means. When your harvests 
are ripe, I’ll promise to come and help you to 
gather them. I should like to sleep in the 
new hay and smell its fragrance. So you 
have the old farm. Cortis, I am commencing 
to envy you.” 

“ Are you ? ” . 

Cortis rose and led the way up-stairs. 
Carey went from room to room like a happy 
child, gazed from the windows and admired 
everything. 

“ IN’ow you may hope or fear, as the case 
may be, to see me very often. I’ll look out at 
the dusty, noisy streets and the brick walls, 
and then I’ll picture to myself these surround- 
ings. The moment the fruit trees begin to 
blossom, send me word. It is years since I 
enjoyed the sight. Do you find it difficult to 
get good help ? ” 

“ISTo, I am fortune’s favorite. I impressed 
an idle, drunken jack-of-all-trades, and by 
using flattery and money judiciously, I am 
getting lots of good work out of him. I don’t 


i, 


70 


SEPARATION 


lose sight of him, and I incited him to buy a 
Sunday suit of clothes, the first he has had for 
years. He looks like a respectable member of 
society when he is arrayed in his best ; and on 
week-days I keep him busy, as I won’t stand a 
relapse.” 

Carey laughed at Cortis’s decision of tone 
and manner. 

“ You have your hands full, I should say.” 

“Yes, indeed. I sleep like a great boy, and 
when I am occupied in the open, I feel like a 
bird, free and strong. Was I dull a few min- 
utes ago? I was disappointed. I have felt so 
light-hearted, so interested, so equal to every- 
thing, that I really believed that my eyes were 
better than they are.” 

“I understand, Cortis. You are insuring 
their perfect recovery. You may yet in- 
dulge in all the happiness you can imagine.” 
Carey stretched himself in a huge steamer- 
chair. 

“Wait till my crops are up. To-morrow 
Watkins and I will draw a plan of the farm, 


SEPARATION 


71 

and decide what to plant and where. He has 
the ploughing well under way.” 

“ Watkins ! You don’t mean Jim ? ” 

“Yes, the famous Jim. We divide the 
curiosity of the town. I believe bets are made 
as to his reformation.” 

“Well, Cortis, I thought I had courage in 
the matter of taking risks ; but you astonish 
me.” 

Cortis whistled a few bars of a popular air. 

“ There is nothing to lose, you know.” 

“ Why, yes ; your hopes, your efforts.” 

“ Oh, I am not indulging any hopes. I am 
experimenting with human nature. Watkins 
is helping me, so we are quits on that score.” 

“I think there is nothing vicious in Watkins. 
He was an idle young fellow when I was a 
boy. He taught me to fish and hunt. The 
fact is, Cortis, his life has been colorless. You 
have given him his first chance to use his odds 
and ends of knowledge. This is a wretched 
town for people without means or education. 
They deteriorate with the place. Well, are 


SEPARATION 


72 

you for church this morning ? Mother will be 
waiting for me in her Sunday-go-to-meeting 
dress.” 

“I’ll come along presently. I’ll have to 
mount my smoked glasses, I suppose.” 

“ Yes ; no tricks, because I am here.” 

Carey hurried off, encouraged and medita- 
tive. A familiar line haunted him. 

“ The good are better made by ill.” 

His liking for Cortis was coupled with 
respect. His reflections were strangely inter- 
rupted by the view of two ladies, in faultless 
spring street costumes, coming from the porch 
of the house he was passing. One of them 
caught his glance and bowed. Carey halted, 
raised his hat, bowed, smiled, held open the 
gate, and then extended his hand to a pleasant 
clasp. 

“ Mrs. Bemerton ! You here ? ” 

“Yes. This is my niece Mrs. Aston, Dr. 
Carey. How charming it is to see you, al- 
though duty brought you to this place ! ” 


SEPARATION 


73 


“ So you knew I was coming ? ” 

“ Oh, we know everything here, and a great 
deal besides.” 

“ Your mother prepared us for your appear- 
ance,” said Mrs. Aston, her frank eyes meeting 
Carey’s steady glance. “ I hope you will be 
good, and make her a long visit.” 

“ I’ll be as good as I can. I’ll promise ev- 
erything, like a child ; but if temptation as- 
sails me the next minute, I won’t answer for 
the consequences.” 

“ Which means you may take the first train 
to town in the morning ? ” 

“ Precisely.” 

Mrs. Aston laughed musically. 

“Isn’t this air invigorating? I wish the 
world could breathe it.” 

“ The world prefers the dust of cities.” 

“I’ll confess I do,” said Mrs. Bemerton. 
“ I shall be delighted when Marion can return 
from exile.” 

Carey’s eyes again met Mrs. Aston’s. 

“ Is that the view you take of it ? ” 


74 SEPARATION 

“ I did feel like a Russian prisoner at first. 
Now ” 

“ Marion flatters herself that she is learning 
to like the monotony,” Mrs. Bemerton laughed. 

Carey waited for Mrs. Aston to finish her 
sentence. 

“ I was going to say that I am growing ac- 
customed to amusing myself. In New York, 
if one feels dull, it is easy to find entertain- 
ment.” 

“ A matinee, for instance, or a flower show,” 
suggested Carey. 

^‘Yes; there you have innumerable resources 
outside of yourself. You can fall back upon 
the brains of the whole community. How to 
provide salable pleasure is the great question. 
I buy very little, perhaps for the reason that 
I am very busy. Perhaps if I lived here I 
should crave it and feel my disadvantage.” 

“ Indeed you would,” said Mrs. Bemerton. 

“ Or perhaps you would practice the maxim 
that is in the copy-books,” said Mrs. Aston. 
“ You would have ample opportunity.” 


SEPARATION 75 

“I should probably care to know myself 
better than my neighbors,” said Carey. “ By 
the way, you have a very interesting one. 
Poor fellow, circumstances forced him to 
know himself pretty thoroughly. He is a 
brave spirit.” 

“Will he recover the use of his eyes?” 
asked Mrs. Bemerton. 

There was a very perceptible pause. Mrs. 
Aston grew absorbed' in the arching branches 
overhead; Mrs. Bemerton began to feel em- 
barrassed. Carey’s voice was curiously tense : 

“ I hope so.” 


CHAPTEK YII 


Miss Page, in charming Sunday attire, now 
quickened her steps to welcome Dr. Carey, and 
ask innumerable questions as to his future ar- 
rangements. Again the little party was 
strengthened by old friends, and Carey’s curi- 
osity about Mrs. Aston increased in exact pro- 
portion with the difficulty of satisfying it. It 
was intensified by interest and fascination; 
and, meanwhile, his parents awaited him at 
the parsonage gate, and seeing how agreeably 
he was occupied, started ahead arm-in-arm. 
During the service, which seemed unusually 
long that morning, his imagination began to 
feed his thoughts. He was aware of Cortis’s 
presence in the congregation, and the fact had 
an irritating effect upon him. It would be but 
right to join Cortis when leaving the church, 
and invite him to dinner. Carey felt a desire 

to forget Cortis and his infirmitv., and to let 
76 


SEPARATION 


77 


his thoughts dwell on Mrs. Aston’s perfections. 
He had a very good view of her profile, and 
he liked the lines of her mouth and chin. 
Their soft curves and dimples concealed a 
strength of character perhaps unsuspected by 
its possessor. He would willingly sound its 
depths. He listened vaguely to the pastoral 
sentences of psalms and hymns ; they were in 
harmony with the dreamy sense of happiness 
that was just stealing over him, when — a great 
deal of rustling and movement proclaimed 
that the service had ended all too soon. When 
he reached the door Cortis had disappeared, 
and Miss Page was eagerly addressing him. 

“ Can’t you come home with us, Lowell ? 
Ma will be delighted if you will dine with us.” 

“Oh, but mother would be disconsolate. 
She has scarcely seen me. I came very late 
last night, and I rushed out at dawn to find 
Cortis. Shall we go ahead ? I see no sign of 
my people or yours.” 

“ Oh, they are gathered about your father, 
gossiping as usual.” 


SEPARATION 


78 

“ You never gossip, Mamie, I’m sure.” 

‘‘Yes, I do, but I despise myself for do- 
ing it; that is, when it becomes detraction. 
It is no harm to say nice things about 
people.” 

“ No, that style of gossip is worth cultiva- 
ting. It is a very rare plant. Have you any 
to edify me with ? ” 

“ I don’t know. Have you met Mrs. Aston ? 
She is lovely ! Isn’t it sad ? She is a widow 
with a sweet little son, and her health is so 
delicate that she has to bury herself in this 
wretched place.” 

“ Come, come, Mamie, we were born here, 
you know.” 

“I can’t be held responsible for that mis- 
fortune. I just long to leave. You wouldn’t 
return here.” 

Carey turned to gaze at the lovely eyes of 
this dissatisfied girl, and he laughed merrily 
at her earnestness. 

“For a very substantial reason. The na- 
tives have very sound eyes, and I am not sufli- 


SEPARATION 


79 

ciently celebrated to bring patients from afar ; 
otherwise ” 

“ Nonsense, Lowell ! One can’t breathe 
freely in this atmosphere. There is nothing 
to do, nothing to learn, no place to go.” 

“Why, child, you are one of the busiest 
girls I know. Own up. Are you occupied 
from morning till night with home matters ? ” 

“ Yes ; and I am so deadly tired of the 
same old routine, year in and year out.” 

“You look very well, in spite of your lack 
of trials and tribulations. Why, you have 
grown since I was here.” 

“ Yes, three inches.” 

“ Mainie, if you only knew how happy you 
are ” 

“ Oh, pshaw ! That’s what ma tells me.” 

“I see ; you are the victim of monotony.” 

“Yes, indeed! Any change would be wel- 
come.” 

“Yes. Change is the cure. Were I a pro- 
fessor in the art of change, I should like to 
order a wholesome one for you,” 


8o 


SEPARATION 


“You always laugh at me. Lowell, I shall 
never complain to you again. You can’t be 
sympathetic.” 

Carey laughed heartily. 

“ jN’ever mind, Mamie, I’ll walk all the way 
home with you. That will make a slight dif- 
ference in your Sunday sameness.” 

“That will be delightful. Now tell me 
about the last play you saw. Describe every- 
thing, dresses, scenery ” 

“Don’t you want to know how it was 
acted ? ” 

“ Of course.” 

As he hastened homeward, half suspecting 
that dinner was waiting. Dr, Carey’s thoughts 
recurred to Mary Page. “ How pretty she is ! 
How dull this town is to her ! What a pity it 
is that the young men here are so inferior 1 
She should be where she could associate with 
equals of both sexes.” 

After dinner Carey was perfectly willing to 
take a walk with his mother. The little lady 
was looking her best and happiest ; earth, air, 


SEPARATION 8i 

and sky were telling of spring, and somehow 
Carey even lost his professional bearing. 

They entered Mrs. Aston’s gate, and were 
welcomed by her at the door. She was daz- 
zling in her favorite creamy costume, and she 
held easily on her arm a fair, golden-haired, 
white-robed child, a small edition of herself. 

“ Reggy and I were afraid you. were going 
to pass. He is devoted to people, and I was 
prepared for a deluge of tears. — Come, boy, 
give Dr. Carey your hand.” 

Reggy was obedient and friendly. Mrs. 
Bemerton rose from a writing-table, and time 
followed its usual custom when people are 
anxious to detain it. Reggy crept or toddled 
about the room, his mother’s vigilance pre- 
venting catastrophes, while the conversation 
touched upon topics as opposed and varied as 
the thoughts of the speakers. Carey felt puz- 
zled. His hostess, with her girlish merriment 
and quick motions, was either a mistress of 
reticence or an example of indifference to vil- 
lage interests and information. 


82 


SEPARATION 


Her aunt, on the contrary, was deeply ab' 
sorbed in Mrs. Carey’s conversation, which 
was inclined to be local in character. Jim 
"Watkins’s apparent reformation and the mys- 
terious ways of his employer were town-talk. 

“ You bring the city to your fireside,” said 
Carey, bending above a jar of fragrant blos- 
soms, and noticing the late magazines scat- 
tered over the table. 

“Yes. Pa keeps me supplied with books 
and flowers from Hew York,” replied Mrs. 
Aston, carelessly rearranging some violets and 
pausing to catch a sentence of Mrs. Carey’s. 

“Cortis still,” laughed Carey. “Anything 
uncommon is suspicious in this little com- 
munity.” 

“Yes; it is safe not to believe anything 
that you hear. There is no good authority.” 
The delicate pink in Mrs. Aston’s cheeks deep- 
ened as she spoke, and her eyes sought the 
useful bouquet. 

“ You are wise to supply yourself with en- 
tertainment at home and ignore gossip. I 


SEPARATION 


83 

suppose if Cortis should publish his simple 
scheme for recovering the use of his eyes, 
readers would still suspect that something 
sensational was withheld. Bare facts are sel- 
dom interesting.” Carey glanced from Mrs. 
Aston’s fingers to her face. “ Oh, I beg par- 
don ! Did I do anything so awkward ? ” 

He raised the jar and righted the flowers, 
while Mrs. Aston tried with her handkerchief 
to stop a little rivulet that was crossing her 
embroidered table scarf. 

‘‘ I don’t think the water can hurt it.” 

“ Your books will be ruined,” cried Mrs. 
Bemerton, rising to the rescue. 

Mrs. Aston escaped with the jar, and came 
back to find the baby behind a sofa raptur- 
ously destroying a magazine. 

“ How, Dr. Carey, you can put my flowers 
in this fresh water. Here, Keggy, you can 
finish your entertainment. Dr. Carey must 
see what strong fingers you have.” She 
watched the child’s dimpled hands tearing the 
uncut pages and laughed at his efforts. 


SEPARATION 


84 

“ Marion is spoiling her baby as fast as she 
can,” said Mrs. Bemerton. “ That book would 
please a number of persons, if you don’t care 
to read it.” 

“Oh, so it would. He has only torn the 
advertisements. — Reggy, give the book to 
mamma.” 

“ What a good boy ! ” said Mrs. Carey, as 
Reggy smilingly proffered it. “ You have 
him in perfect training.” 

Mrs. Aston held the baby face to her 
own. 

“He isn’t to be trained. We love each 
other.” 

Dr. Carey smiled, quoting softly : 

“ ‘ Love is the fulfilling of the law.’ ” 

The mother and son walked homeward in 
happy silence. Mrs. Carey was busy with an- 
ticipations, as Mrs. Bemerton and Mrs. Aston 
had accepted her invitation for Monday even- 
ing. Who but those that have indulged in 
them can imagine the day-dreams of a man 
who loves suddenly ? Where reason suggests 


SEPARATION 85 

no obstacles the imagination has perfect scope. 
“I ought to go back to town early to-mor- 
row,” Carey repeated to himself. But on this 
occasion the thought of duty served for the act. 


CHAPTER YIII 


Mrs. Carey’s “ evening ” was reaching the 
highest expectations. Yarious new lamps 
with colored shades produced rainbow effects 
in the cozy rooms. Strict “ whist ” kept the 
elders in the library; the dining-room was a 
safety-valve for the giddy and talkative ; and 
in the drawing-room music, as in Shakespeare’s 
time, furnished a banquet for lovers. Miss 
Page could draw a circle of charmed auditors 
around the piano ; her touch was delicate, her 
execution brilliant, her expression remarkable 
for one so young and inexperienced. Carey 
listened in surprise, and felt quite satisfied 
that Mrs. Aston’s thoughts were like his own. 
Mrs. Aston, however, was seated at a distance 
and quite surrounded. Carey knew that pre- 
cious moments were mocking his timidity, and 
he took the first opportunity to join her little 


SEPARATION 


87 

court. On his way, he met his mother, and 
stopped to whisper one of those spontaneous 
remarks which women ever afterwards recall 
with a tender flush of pleasure. 

“ I fear Mr. Cortis is not coming, Lowell. 
Did he feel unequal to the effort ? ” 

Ko. He promised to wear a business suit 
and keep me in countenance. Oh, he’ll be 
along.” 

Carey passed through the dining-room, and 
from it reentered the drawing-room to find 
that two persons had changed positions. The 
scene suggested a game of chess, when the 
moving of the queens defeats the plan of ac- 
tion and calls for a fresh combination. Mrs. 
Aston was seated at the piano, and Miss Page 
lingered near her, eager to gauge this new 
rival. Carey leaned in the doorway and found 
ample entertainment in watching the per- 
plexed faces about him, while the player rev- 
eled in an Impromptu by Chopin. He could 
distinguish whispered comments ; “ What is 

it ? ” “ Isn’t it queer ? ” ‘‘ Doesn’t she make 


88 


SEPARATION 


a noise?” “I wish she would play some- 
thing we could understand I ” Dead silence 
rewarded Mrs. Aston’s exhibition of a talent 
vivified by genius. Her eyes were downcast, 
she rose. 

“Oh, don’t stop!” cried Miss Page. “I 
want to hear you. You take away my 
breath.” 

Mrs. Aston turned a smiling face to the en- 
thusiastic girl, resumed her seat, and touched 
the keys. 

“Will you have more of Chopin?” she 
asked gently. 

Carey bent over her. 

“You are wasting ammunition,” he whis- 
pered. “ Lower your guns a few miles.” Her 
eyes laughed in his : 

“ Suggest something.” 

“A simple melody with fireworks at the 
end of it.” 

“I am out of practice. I’ll sing one.” 

So she sang, and her voice wakened echoes 
in the hearts of the listeners, the card-tables 


SEPARATION 


89 

were deserted, the doorways filled with de- 
lighted faces, here and there a surreptitious 
handkerchief was raised. 

Mrs. Bemerton drew Carey’s attention. 

“ She is exerting herself too much. But she 
never knows when to stop, she is so fond of 
giving pleasure.” 

Carey nodded, and the mental equilibrium 
of the gathering was soon restored. Whist 
was resumed, the maidens and youths matched 
ornaments, and Miss Page wandered into the 
quiet study to recall Mrs. Aston’s musical 
gift. 

The room was only lighted from the hall, 
but Miss Page knew the exact position of 
chairs and tables, and reaching the rector’s 
great armchair she sank into it with a little 
sigh of content. Growing accustomed to the 
gloom, she soon perceived Cortis, so seated 
that through the open doorway he had a view 
of the piano and the groups near it. Some- 
what startled, she spoke impulsively : 

“Why, Mr. Cortis! We were quite sure 


90 


SEPARATION 


that you did not come. Did you hear Mrs. 
Aston sing ? ” 

“Yes. I was glad to take refuge here un- 
noticed.” 

“ But you will come into the other rooms ? ” 

“ Perhaps — you know I am something of a 
bat. But why do you seek solitude ? ” 

“I wanted to think about Mrs. Aston’s 
playing. Of course, she has had advantages — 
city teachers and opportunities to hear great 
musicians.” Miss Page sighed. Cortis pre- 
served silence. “I feel discouraged, and dis- 
gusted with myself.” 

“I heard you play,” Cortis said, palpably 
forcing himself to talk. “ You have no reason 
to complain.” 

“ Oh, do you think that if I practise I may 
some day play as well as Mrs. Aston does ? ” 

“ You propound a problem. Who shall de- 
cide as to the scope of a natural gift ? If you 
contrast your performance with that of in- 
ferior musicians, you will be apt to rest upon 
your laurels and perhaps deteriorate. If, on 


SEPARATION 


91 


the other hand, you measure yourself with 
your superiors, the first sensation is what you 
are feeling this moment. If you are honestly 
a lover of music, and if you believe that it is 
your duty to cultivate a talent, you will work 
steadily, ambitious, devoted, and happy. Ear- 
nest effort is the secret of success in every 
profession.’’ 

Miss Page sighed. 

“ You are very good to speak as you do. I 
must be lazy. I have no incentive. I wonder 
why Mrs. Aston keeps up her music. She 
must have a motive.” 

“ Ask her. Being a woman and young, she 
may be better qualified to encourage you than 
even a teacher ” 

The entrance of the rector carrying a 
lighted lamp, and followed by Mrs. Bemer- 
ton, interrupted Cortis’s advice. As the 
slight, white-robed figure attracted Mr. 
Carey’s gaze, he spoke with embarrassment : 

“I want to find a book for Mrs. Bemer- 


ton 


92 SEPARATION 

“Oh, it will do to-morrow,” said Mra 
Bemerton. 

Miss Page laughed, turning her head on the 
back of the chair and scanning the group with 
decided pleasure. There was to her an irre- 
sistible absurdity in the situation. 

“Oh, Mr. Carey, can’t you induce Mr. 
Cortis to come into the next room? He 
carries his exclusiveness to an extreme.” 

Cortis had risen and bowed his acknowl- 
edgment of Mrs. Bemerton’s recognition. 
He now sat down. 

“Mr. Cortis is a privileged person,” said 
Mr. Carey, opening a bookcase and reading 
titles. The atmosphere began to freeze per- 
ceptibly. Finally the volume was found, and 
having accepted it, Mrs. Bemerton said some- 
thing about the good lights in the library and 
retreated, followed by her host bearing the 
lamp. 

The silence was broken by bursts of smoth- 
ered laughter from the depths of the rector’s 
chair. 


SEPARATION 


93 

“ You are mighty good-natured ! ” cried 
Cortis, with suppressed anger in his voice. 

“ I never saAV anything so ludicrous,” cried 
Miss Page, indulging in a fresh peal of merri- 
ment. “Did you see her face? But I am 
sorry for the dear old rector. He felt so awk- 
ward about the matter.” 

“He’ll always believe that it was acci- 
dental.” 

“ Don’t you think it was ? ” 

“ On his part, yes.” 

“Why don’t you enjoy it? You seem so 
furious. I don’t believe in taking everything 
so hard. You needn’t worry on my account. 
We are so used to gossip here, that it is taking 
the place of fairy stories.” 

“ I am glad you regard it so sensibly. As a 
rule, it produces a moral malaria that under- 
mines our happiness. Gossip and meddling 
are our domestic curses.” 

“ Well, you don’t suffer from them at home.” 

Cortis drew out his shade glasses and slowly 
put them on. 


94 


SEPARATION 


‘‘ There are certain advantages in a hermit’s 
existence, I’ll admit. Still it is an experience 
that I did not anticipate, and the hermits of 
poetry had the use of their eyes, as well as I 
remember.” 

“ Oh, indeed, everybody feels sorry for you. 
It would be different, if you were old and 
uninteresting.” 

Cortis laughed heartily. 

“ But if I were old, I should be in greater 
need of pity.” 

“ Oh, yes, but old people are supposed to 
have infirmities.” 

“ So I am an object of pity in the com- 
munity.” 

“ Oh, I didn’t mean ” 

“!Now, don’t attempt new definitions. 
What you say amuses me infinitely.” 

Two figures now entered the wide hall 
from the drawing-room, and slowly paced 
back and forth. Miss Page watched them 
with unconscious eagerness, and Cortis re- 
lapsed into his pathetic stillness. Presently 


SEPARATION 


95 

the figures came into the study. Cortis rose 
instantly, bowing distantly and speaking : 

“Good-evening.” He placed a chair for 
Mrs. Aston. 

“ I’m glad to see you,” said Carey, offering 
his hand, and including Miss Page in a sweep- 
ing glance. “Why, this is very nice. I’ll 
bring in coffee for the party.” 

The evening, like other delightful pauses in 
existence, was ended by the striking of a fast, 
officious clock. Carey escorted Mrs. Bemer- 
ton and Mrs. Aston along the moonlit road, 
and Cortis gladly sauntered homeward with 
Mrs. Page and her daughter. 

“I guess Lowell is captivated this time,” 
said Mrs Page, laughing. “ His mother seems 
to be delighted, so I suppose the monotony 
will be broken by at least one wedding.” 

“And then we lose the nicest bachelor the 
town can boast,” said Miss Page, sighing. 

“He might just as well be settled. He 
only dangles after the girls here, and raises 
false hopes. Why, he has been our great 


SEPARATION 


96 

Eligible for the past ten years. Don’t you 
agree with me, Mr. Cortis ? ” 

“ Oh — ^yes — certainly,” said Cortis, abstract- 
edly. 

“ It is strange how one woman will attract 
a dozen men, and the other eleven women, 
who might divide the honors and be com- 
fortably married, never have a single serious 
admirer,” continued Mrs. Page. “You have 
observed the fact, Mr. Cortis, I’m sure.” 

“ Oh — ^yes — yes,” said Cortis. He was glad 
when the house was reached, and the subject 
was changed. 


CHAPTEE IX 


Mks. Aston was walking up and down her 
piazza, stopping occasionally at the open win- 
dow of the drawing-room to expatiate on the 
beauty of the night. 

“ Throw a wrap over your head, auntie, and 
come out, just for ten minutes. You cannot 
understand what you are missing. The stars 
are lovely ; there is a moon, and the reflection 
on the water is worth seeing. The fruit trees 
and the delicate foliage have a fairy effect, 
and the air is full of fragrance. I wish pa 
would come while the blossoms are so perfect.” 

“ I’m glad you are enjoying yourself, dear,” 
said Mrs. Bemerton, sleepily ; “ but indeed, I 
would only get neuralgia if I tried being out 
in night air at this season.” 

Mrs. Aston’s thoughts were not all cheerful 
and in harmony with the influences about her. 
Perhaps their loveliness suggested and height- 
97 


SEPARATION 


98 

ened contrasts. Drawing her cloak around 
her she extended her walk to the gate, where 
she stood for some minutes- looking up and 
down the road. The shadows of the arching 
trees were clearly defined on the level ; tender 
grasses bordered the sides; the fence lines 
rose in distinct parallels ; not a sign of man or 
animal was visible. 

Mrs. Aston glanced at the windows of her 
own room, in which Reggy lay asleep, and 
then, as if under the spell of a sudden impulse, 
she opened the gate and went slowly up the 
road. A pleasant sensation of freedom from 
observation took entire possession of her. 
The ability to think and reason increased as 
she walked. Presently she found herself pass- 
ing the gate of Cortis’s house, and she lingered 
to inspect the improvements that so interested 
the town gossips. Yes — the flower-beds in 
front were filled with delicate young plants, 
evidently seedlings, so recently watered that 
the drops shone like diamonds on the leaves. 
A hammock hung in the deep porch, a large 


SEPARATION 


99 

straw hat had fallen from it to the floor. 
The window blinds were closed, no lights 
came from within. 

Mrs. Aston moved, paused, hesitated. The 
gate was ajar ; she passed through the narrow 
opening and around the grass-bordered walk 
to the side of the house. The shutters of the 
bow-window were placed at a practicable 
angle. She peered into the sitting-room. 
Cortis was eating his supper. His back was 
to the window ; a soft light from a hanging 
lamp, and a blazing log in the stove, made the 
apartment attractive and homelike. Of what 
was its occupant now thinking? Surely of 
something agreeable, for he was eating with a 
relish, and his appearance indicated vigor and 
satisfaction. After a while he turned his 
chair and faced the fire. Mrs. Aston had a 
full view of his fair features and wide-open 
eyes. A knock was followed by the entrance 
of the metamorphosed Watkins bearing some 
fishing-tackle, and the two men grew absorbed 
in the subject of the proper fly for the season. 

LoFC. 


lOO 


SEPARATION 


Mrs. Aston retraced her steps ; but the room 
with its few articles of furniture, and the 
figure of its owner, rose like a vision before 
her mental sight and held captive her 
thoughts. Mr. Cortis looked and acted like a 
man who enjoyed every moment of his exist- 
ence by filling it with agreeable occupations. 
She recalled remarks connecting his name 
with that of Miss Page. Perhaps the mighty 
magician was transforming all things for their 
especial happiness, for the whole world be- 
longs to lovers. 

Thus occupied, Mrs. Aston was startled by 
the appearance of Mrs. Bemerton’s tall figure 
advancing to meet her. A vague fear stole 
over her. 

“ Marion ! What a search I have had for 
you, to be sure ! Dr. Carey is at the house. I 
thought you were on the porch ” 

“Why, auntie, you have got quite out of 
breath. Dr. Carey I Why, what brings him 
here so soon again ? ” 


SEPARATION 


101 


“He didn’t take me into his confidence, 
Marion. Perhaps he will tell you.” 

“ Mr. Cortis is not any worse.” 

“ How do you know, Marion ? ” 

“ Perhaps his mother is ill.” 

“ Hot at all. He is all smiles and happiness, 
just like a great boy — or a lover.” 

“ Here he comes, auntie.” 

“ I’ll go in, Marion. The night is charming, 
but I am afraid to risk it.” 

Dr. Carey was decidedly boyish. He was 
enthusiastic over the fruit trees, the perfumy 
breezes, the shadows, and, above all, the ex- 
quisite stillness. 

“ It is too lovely to go indoors,” he said, as 
Mrs. Bemerton retreated. “ Do you fear the 
night air ? ” 

“ Oh, no. I have been out here the whole 
evening.” 

“ Shall we walk ? ” 

“ Yes ; it is pleasant. I have been strolling 
along the road.” 

Dr. Carey took the direction of the river, 


102 


SEPARATION 


and they soon wandered along the bank, 
watching the moonlight quivering on the 
water. 

“ This is the prettiest spot I have seen,” said 
Mrs. Aston. “■ When pa comes I must bring 
him here.” 

‘‘ Do you expect him very soon ? ” 

Mrs. Aston sighed. 

“ No ; but I am going to coax him to pay us 
a short visit. He is like you, absorbed in his 
business. Oh, is Mr. Cortis any worse ? ” 

“ I hope not. I’ll see him in the morning. 
Did you think I came up on his account ? ” 

Mrs. Aston felt her cheeks flushing under 
Carey’s rapid glance. She gazed at the river, 
not speaking for some seconds. 

“ I cannot answer your question.” Her eyes 
met his. ‘‘ I thought of several reasons in a 
moment. But perhaps you had no particular 
one. Everybody should see the country at 
this season. I really believe that it makes 
one good to be under these influences.” 

She glanced above and around her as she 


SEPARATION 


103 

finished speaking. Carey walked by her side, 
silent and abstracted. 

“ A penny for your thoughts,” she said mer- 
rily. 

“They are complex,” he replied. “You 
spoke of influences. I think you have put me 
under a spell, for I want to speak, but words 
fail me.” 

“Please don’t add to my responsibilities,” 
she said earnestly. “ Don’t accuse me of in- 
fluencing you. You are experiencing the effect 
of this tranquillity, this solitude. Oh, I have 
learned a great deal about myself since I came 
here. !N^ow I can think dispassionately of cir- 
cumstances that I used to view with prejudice. 
Impulse gives place to reason when we find 
ourselves face to face with the problem of 
eternity. Now I am perplexing you. Tell me 
of something amusing, something that does 
not involve happiness or misery.” 

“I wish I could understand you.” Carey 
was gazing at her face, which had become 
white and tense. 


104 


SEPARATION 


‘‘That would be impossible, for I do not 
understand myself. I spend hours daily in an 
honest effort to be true to myself. If you care 
to be my friend, talk of trifles.” 

“ I do care to be your friend, and so for the 
present serious topics shall be avoided.” 

“Now, that is a promise?” She smiled 
faintly. 

“Yes, but sometimes promises are broken. * 
N o w — now — don’t misunderstand me. I quali- 
fied my remark. We all believe in a lovely 
future, in spite of Longfellow’s advice to the 
contrary.” 

“ I wish we could take it about the past,” 
she sighed. 

“ I tell you what it is, Mrs. Aston, not one 
of us values the present moment as it should 
be valued. Life would be far richer and very 
much slower, if we could appreciate the extent 
of the blessings that we enjoy so carelessly, so 
thoughtlessly, while imagination pictures those 
to come.” 

She laughed a little nervously. 


SEPARATION 


105 

“Let us be wise — let us enjoy our walk. 
What have you been reading lately ? ” 

“ Shakespeare.” 

“ Shakespeare,” she repeated. “ I suppose I 
ought to read Shakespeare. It is the fashion, 
isn’t it ? ” 

“ I don’t know, although I believe Shakes- 
peare clubs are numerous. 1 like Shakespeare’s 
women. You know, no writer before him, or 
after him, has conceived such wonderful -char- 
acters. They are so human, so good, so large, 
mentally and morally. He has done your 
sex justice. If you haven’t read his plays, 
you have a great pleasure to dream of and 
realize.” 

“ Do you think his women would be equal 
to the questions that perplex us now ? ” 

“Decidedly. They are subjected to moral 
trials rather than material ones.” 

“I wonder if they would have taken in 
washing, like Mrs. Watkins, and supported 
their families under similar circumstances.” 

Carey turned to scan Mrs. Aston’s features. 


io6 SEPARATION 

“ You are not joking ? ” 

“ I never was more serious in my life, Dr. 
Carey.” 

“Shakespeare’s women are placed in the 
upper ranks,” Carey replied thoughtfully. “ I 
don’t recall any that are called upon to sup- 
port their families. Moral problems are more 
poetical than struggles for our daily bread. 
However, we may read between the lines ; 
and there is one fact to remember. The 
sanctity of marriage gives Shakespeare his 
heroines.” 

Dr. Carey felt somewhat surprised at the 
silence which ensued ; but his companion 
looked so sweet and grave in the silvery 
light, and it was so pleasant to walk thus by 
her side and feel the charm of her individu- 
ality, that he did not covet the sound of voices. 
Perhaps his words had awakened sacred mem- 
ories. Her reserve was fascinating; the day 
should come when confidence would take its 
place. 

They reached a point where the footpath 


SEPARATION 


107 

ended, and lingered to enjoy the view and 
discuss the possibility of reaching the house 
by roundabout lanes. Carey exerted himself 
to avoid the serious, and soon was enchanted 
by little bursts of merriment, and bright, ap- 
preciative remarks from Mrs. Aston. The 
lanes were redolent from the shrubs just be- 
ginning to bloom. The tiny blossoms peeped 
cautiously from their green retreats; then, 
fascinated by the gentle moon, opened wide 
their petals to the refreshing dew. Mrs. As- 
ton broke off a few sprigs of hawthorn and 
fastened them in her belt. 

“My tastes are really changing,” she said 
gayly. “ I can’t tell whether they are im- 
proving or deteriorating. Certainly I am in 
love with wild flowers, just as much so as 
when I was a child.” 

“ I suppose I used to enjoy gathering them,” 
said Carey. “I have forgotten even their 
names.” 

“ Oh, how nice ! Your father wants me to 
botanize ; but I like the flowers for their ap- 


io8 SEPARATION 

pearance, just as I do people that please me, 
and I don’t care to learn their family names 
and all about their connections.” 

“ Or their social position,” laughed Carey. 

‘‘ I care nothing about it. It would bore me 
to find it out. I often wonder why people 
cannot stand on their own merits, instead of 
claiming consideration because their grand- 
fathers or great-uncles did something worthy 
of respect. I always lose interest when I am 
expected to think back to the Revolution, and 
recall some army or navy officer, or some 
prominent lawyer, who acted precisely as he 
should have, at that period. I find myself 
wondering if his aristocratic descendant is 
preserving the family honor or adding to its 
reputation.” 

‘‘ Do you ever satisfy your curiosity in that 
respect ? ” 

Occasionally.” She looked at Carey. “ I 
think the wild fiowers have the best of it. 
They are as exquisite as their ancestors that I 
knew when I was little. I hojt>-^ to have a 


SEPARATION 


109 


garden this summer. I want Reggy to see 
the table vegetables growing. You shall have 
some if you will take the trouble to visit us 
during the summer.” 

“ The trouble ” Carey checked himself. 

“ I shall be here on time. May I come in for a 
few minutes ? If it is not too late, and you 
are not fatigued, I wish you would play for 
me.” 

“With pleasure. I have a little concert 
every evening. Auntie dozes but politely sits 
it out. Reggy sleeps overhead, and I have a 
pleasant theory that the harmonies reach him, 
and make his slumber dreams as beautiful as 
his waking ones.” 

“ I trust they do. Like all mothers, you are 
trying to make the world the richer by a good 
man.” 

“ I pray he will make a good woman of me.” 
She sighed, and another long silenc'e baffled 
Dr. Carey. 

“ Serious again,” he said, gently. 

She started. 


1 lO 


SEPARATION 


“ Yes ; and I have plenty of leisure ! I can 
wear my thinking cap threadbare.” 

“ Let me tell you something,” said Carey, 
impulsively. “ You are preoccupied with some 
momentous question.” 

“Ami?” 

“ Yes.” 

“ How do you know ? ” 

“ Just as I know that it is a lovely night. 
To observe is my profession. How long is this 
problem going to absorb you ? ” 

“ I cannot tell. I am in a labyrinth.” 

“ But you have your clew.” 

“ I’ve ” She let her eyes rest on Carey’s, 

caught the intensity in his, and then turned 
away her face. “ I’ve got it tangled. It doesn’t 
wind.” 

“ You may need help ? ” 

“ Help ? I think I have had too much. If 
I had sat down patiently to the work I could 
have taken out the knots by myself, without 
injuring the thread. How, they are so twisted 
and so tight that I am advised to cut them. 


SEPARATION 


111 


No one can help me. I may cut them ; but do 
you know that I am very curious to see if I can 
unravel them ? ” 

“ And how to do it is the study ? ” 

“ Yes, my daily one.” 

“ And I cannot assist you in any way ? ” 

“Not with it.” 

“I am rather a useless friend,” he said, 
gently. 

“ Oh, no I If you will help me to think of 
pleasant subjects, to cultivate cheerfulness, to 
discover the blessings that seeming troubles 
conceal, I shall consider you a friend in need. 
I want to be an optimist,” 

Carey laughed in spite of himself. 

“ Optimists are rare.” 

“ I know it. I am a victim of pessimism. I 
have learned the fact since I came here. I 
think your father’s sermons have had much to 
do with my enlightenment.” 

“The dear old man would be greatly en- 
couraged if he could hear your words. He 
sees so little of the fruit of his labor. His 


112 


SEPARATION 


creed is simple to express but very hard to 
practice — ‘ To do righteously.’ ” 

“ Yes ; until I met him I was under the im- 
pression that Christians were born to tribula- 
tions. I was educated in the atmosphere that 
really applied to the early Christians. Now I 
realize that God means His people to be happy 
in this life if they will accept His precepts.” 

“ Yes ; if you care to think it over, you will 
find that people make their own troubles, and 
then try to ship the responsibility on Provi- 
dence. It is so comforting to get the blame 
off our own shoulders.” 

“And so overwhelming Avhen we see our 
mistake and take it all back again, with in- 
terest.” 

“ More metaphor,” said Carey. 

“ Yes ; and I am very practical. Let us re- 
turn to the agreeable. Do you like Chopin’s 
Nocturnes? Pa sent me several last week, 
and I have been reading them carefully. Per- 
haps you can suggest some improvements, some 
delicate meanings that have escaped me. I 


SEPARATION 


113 

find new beauties every time I go over 
them.” 

Mrs. Bemerton was wide awake when Mrs. 
Aston and Dr. Carey returned from their walk. 
A log was glowing on the hearth ; some light 
refreshments were at hand; the piano was 
open, and Mrs. Aston felt like playing. Carey 
drew a low chair within a few feet of the 
player, and gave himself up to the influences 
of the hour. 

It was late when he reluctantly rose to say 
“ Good-night.” She followed him to the porch 
— “ for another peep at the moon ” — and in 
shaking hands a spray of the hawthorn fell at 
his feet. Carey picked it up. 

“ This will prove a charm in town.” 

As he turned away he perceived Cortis 
slowly passing, and quickly joined him. 

** I intended knocking you up, late as it is, 
old man,” Carey said, his happiness overflow- 
ing into his voice and manner. “How are 
you?” 

“ I think, very much* better ; but I have taken 


114 


SEPARATION 


your advice. I haven’t experimented. When 
did you arrive ? ” 

“ This evening. I told mother I would stay 
with you to-night. I can make my examina- 
tion in the morning, and get back to town in 
time to keep an appointment in the afternoon.” 

“ Is it imperative ? Because the fishing is 
good, and we can devote to-morrow to the up- 
per brook.” 

“ That is a temptation ; still, I must get back. 
I’ll be up again very soon, before the blossoms 
fall.” 

“ I’ll tell you, Carey. Watkins is going with 
me. If we have good luck. I’ll send you a 
mess of trout.” 

‘‘ I’ll pray for your success.” 

While talking, Carey drew out a leathern case 
and carefully pressed his hawthorn blossoms 
between two letters. Cortis paused for a sec- 
ond, and then continued his sentence, perfectly 
aware of Carey’s utter absorption. 


CHAPTEE X 


The sun shone on meadows gleaming with 
dandelions ; the lanes were shaded by over- 
hanging fruit trees, and in one of the coolest 
of these retreats Cortis sat on a weather- 
beaten, mossy log and considered the situa- 
tion. When he rose he could see Watkins 
ploughing in a distant field, and admire the 
intervening rye and wheat blowing to the 
breeze. 

The silence and solitude were inspiring. 
Cortis slowly removed his smoked glasses, 
raised his lids, and let the light strike his eyes. 
What a strange sensation it was! Was it 
possible that he had once walked in the sun- 
light, unconscious of its strength, ignorant and 
thankless ? He closed his eyes, left the shade 
of the apple-trees, and stood in the full glare 
of day. Then he repeated his experiment. 

"5 


ii6 SEPARATION 

He gazed about him ; earth, air, and sky con- 
gratulated him. He went back to the log, 
feeling weak and dizzy with joy. He found 
himself on his knees, his face bowed in his 
hands. 

Suddenly he sprang to his feet, conscious 
of observation. Reggy was standing by the 
fence, offering him a handful of dandelions. 
Cortis accepted them, returned to his seat, and 
watched the child’s movements. At first 
gazed at him, evidently expecting to 
be lifted over the fence ; then, with a cry of 
delight, he got on his hands and knees, crept 
through an opening, and joined Cortis at the 
log. 

The baby had evidently escaped from his 
nurse.' His golden hair lay in soft rings on 
his head, his fair arms were outgrowing the 
sleeves of his small Mother Hubbard. He 
discovered an insect, called familiarly a daddy- 
long-legs, . and bent forward until his cheek 
nearly touched its body. In this position he 
followed its march over the inequalities of the 


SEPARATION 


117 

bark, the mossy growths and the decaying 
leaves. 

He was apparently on the most friendly 
terms with birds and insects, for a venture- 
some robin now perched on the fence, and 
Reggy’s eybs sparkled with delight while he 
murmured syllables no doubt intended for its 
name. 

Cortis feasted his eyes on the child’s beauty 
of form and color, afraid to speak lest he 
should break the charm that attracted the 
little one to him. He fell into a reverie, and 
was roused from it by Reggy’s actions. The 
boy approached, gazed intently at Cortis’s bent 
face, then commenced a graceful dance move- 
ment, describing small circles on the smooth 
grass. The sunbeams touched his hair, giving 
it the effect of a nimbus ; his shadow charmed 
him as it moved over the ground. At last he 
put his dimpled hands on Cortis’s arm and 
mounted his knee. Thus enthroned, Reggy 
inspected a watch, holding it first to his own 
ears, then to Cortis’s, until the sound of voices 


ii8 SEPARATION 

calling and the sight of a white-capped, white- 
aproned figure warned Cortis that his waking 
dream was nearly over. 

He put on his glasses, replaced his watch, 
pressed his lips to Reggy’s sunny head, and 
then rising, stood the child in the meadow, 
and beckoned to the nurse. 

“Oh, you naughty, naughty child!” cried 
that functionary, in a tone of mingled terror 
and relief, as she caught up Reggy and saw 
that he was quite whole. 

“ He is very good,” said Cortis, authorita- 
tivel}^. “ Do not tell him what is incorrect. 
You lost sight of him for a moment.” 

“Yes, sir; but I thought he followed his 
mamma.” 

“ He has been watching the birds.” 

“Yes, sir. He is perfectly content in the 
open air.” 

She turned away, and, instructed by her, 
Reggy waved his hand to the “ nice gentle- 
man.” 

Cortis stooped to collect the bruised, stem- 


SEPARATION 


119 


less dandelions, Peggy’s first gifts, and then 
slowly crossed the fields to inspect Watkins at 
work. Two women had watched Cortis and 
Reggy ; Mrs. Bemerton from the window of 
her own room, and Mrs. Aston from a hall 
window, which commanded the lane that lay 
beyond her grounds. 

When the aunt and niece met at the lunch 
table Mrs. Bemerton’s face was anxious and 
determined. Mrs. Aston’s manner was nerv- 
ous, and her eyes showed traces of tears. 

“Were you out this morning, Marion ? ” 

“ No ; I am going this afternoon. I did not 
feel well.” 

“ Headache ? ” 

“ I suppose it is headache.” 

“ Marion, do you know that you mope up in 
your own room, instead of living out in the air 
as you should do ? ” 

“ Oh, auntie, indeed I am always rambling 
about the roads. This morning I had some 
stitches to put in my dresses, and I suppose 
looping the overskirts was too much for me. 


120 


SEPARATION 


Let me give you some lettuce. Isn’t it fresh 
and delicious ? I wonder if it would tempt 
pa to come here.” 

Mrs. Bemerton gave her niece a steady look. 

“ These fresh vegetables should tempt any 
one. Write and hint about them, Marion.” 

“ You can, auntie. You will be able to do 
a pen-and-ink picture of them.” 

“ It would be delightful, Marion, if he and 
Dr. Carey should happen to come here at the 
same time.” 

A delicate flush rose in Mrs. Aston’s cheeks. 

“ Dr. Carey makes flying visits just when he 
can steal the hours. I don’t think I would 
care to have them meet here just at present. 
Something embarrassing might occur.” 

“ That is true ; and, of course, you will be 
able to return to the city very soon now. 
How glad I shall be to get back to civiliza- 
tion ! ” 

“ Oh, auntie ! Is it so dreadful here ? ” 

“Well, Marion, it is dull.” 

“Yes, I suppose it is. Books and fancy 


SEPARATION 


121 


work grow monotonous. You are very good, 
auntie, to sacrifice so much for me.” 

“ ^N’onsense, Marion ; it is you who should 
complain. You suffer more than you realize 
from the sameness of this country existence. 
But for Reggy and your music, your health 
would give way. You are not as gay as you 
were a few weeks ago, and yet I thought 
that with summer your old spirits would re- 
turn.” 

“ I’ll have to reform.” Mrs. Aston forced a 
laugh. ‘‘It will never do to let pa suspect 
that I am troubled or depressed.” 

“ No ; you should think of pleasant things 
and a happy future. You made a promise, 
and that promise shuts a door on the past. 
Keep it barred, Marion.” 

Mrs. Aston trifled with the food on her 
plate, and then rose to seek Reggy. He was 
asleep, and for some seconds she stood watch- 
ing him. The room was dark and quiet ; the 
nurse had gone to her lunch, Mrs. Bemerton 
was enjoying an easy-chair in the shaded 


122 


SEPARATION 


porch. Mrs. Aston felt herself in the pres- 
ence of a mighty power. The child, sleeping 
and waking, was guarded by her own con- 
science. Fortunately for humanity, conscience 
is free, and may even question the justness of 
a promise. 

Mrs. Aston bent over Peggy at intervals, 
studying his features and now and then press- 
ing a kiss on his hair or dress. To many, 
there is no earthly influence which compares 
with that of a sleeping child. Before it, pride, 
vanity, and self-conceit give way to humility. 
Thus Reggy smiled in his sweet slumber, un- 
conscious of the bitter tears that burned his 
mother’s cheeks. When the nurse came up- 
stairs Mrs. Aston was dressed for walking, and 
quickly left the house. 

Mrs. Bemerton was absorbed in this letter 
to her brother : 

Dear Richard : 

If you can hurry up with Marion’s business, 
do so. The monotony here is overpowering, 
and I notice that she is at times very quiet and 


SEPARATION 


123 

depressed. She has too much time to think. 
If she were in IsTew York she would have con- 
stant visits from Dr. Carey. He has come 
here several times to see her, and I am posi- 
tive, from his actions and his mother’s remarks, 
that he has serious intentions. Marion seems 
to enjoy his society ; she walks with him, .and 
their tastes are decidedly congenial. Of 
course, you can learn all about his professional 
ability and prospects. I think Marion is per- 
plexed by the peculiar position in which she 
finds herself. She is not inclined to be confi- 
dential. I simply put two and two together. 
The country is very pretty just now, and 
Reggy flourishes. He is very backward about 
speaking, but Marion will not have him forced 
in any way, and his sign-language is very 
charming, if somewhat difficult to understand. 
I shall be delighted to get back to the city. 
With a few exceptions, the people here are 
disagreeable. Gossip is their delight, and 
strangers are their natural prey. Every day 
proves the wisdom of your scheme. Marion 
is very proud of her vegetable garden, the 
work of a reformed rake named Watkins. 
She wants you to taste her lettuce. Perhaps 
you would be wise to make this an excuse for 
a visit. The “looker-on,” you know, “sees 
the whole game.” 

Yours, 

Maetha Bemeeton. 


124 


SEPARATION 


Having dated and sealed her letter, Mrs. 
Bemerton concluded to post it and pay a few 
visits. The “ agreeable people ” mentioned in 
her correspondence could help her to pass 
away the long afternoon, and she was anxious 
to learn a few items without direct inquiry. 
Much valuable information may be obtained 
by simply mentioning a subject and allowing 
others to discuss it. ' Mrs. Carey’s sitting-room 
was the best place in the town to hear news. 
It was natural for people to carry rumors to 
the rector’s wife for sifting, contradiction, or 
confirmation. Mrs. Carey was sympathetic, 
receptive, and sensible. Mrs. Bemerton found 
her busy with library books that needed re- 
covering, Mrs. Page assisting. 

The great bow-window was open, showing 
the distant mountains rising in wondrous lights 
and shadows, and the foreground of velvety 
lawn, fiower-beds, and evergreens. Bees, but. 
terfiies and birds added sound and motion to 
the scene, and Mrs. Bemerton watched the 
busy hands of the two ladies, who occupied 


SEPARATION 


125 


low seats in the window, and saw something 
interesting in brown paper and mucilage. She 
was about to offer her own services, when 
Mrs. Aston appeared at the gate and the next 
minute was one of the group. 

“ Why, how nice ! Let me help you,” said 
Mrs. Aston, pulling off her gloves and draw- 
ing forward an easy-chair. She was provided 
with an apron, towel, and scissors, and the 
work went on rapidly and merrily. 

“ Where is Mr. Carey ? ” asked Mrs. Aston. 
“I came to see him, and I peeped into his 
room, but he was not there.” 

“ He will be home to tea,” said Mrs. Carey. 
“ Can’t you take supper with us ? ” 

Mrs. Aston glanced thoughtfully at her 
hostess. 

“Why, yes, Marion, if you would like to 
stay ; I will look after Reggy for you,” said 
Mrs. Bemerton. 

“ I think I will,” Mrs. Aston replied, slowly. 

Mrs. -Carey looked delighted. 

“ Why can’t you all remain with me ? It 


126 


SEPARATION 


would give Mr. Carey so much pleasure. I can 
send for Mamie.” 

Mrs. Page laughed. 

“ But I invited Mr. Cortis to dine with us 
this evening. He was to come up after lunch 
and plan a tennis court for Mamie. I suppose 
he is there now.” 

“ I am very glad to hear of the tennis 
court,” said Mrs. Carey. “ Do you play, Mrs. 
Aston ? ” 

“ Oh, yes ; I like tennis very much.” 

“ Lowell wants to learn it this summer. 1 
am going to sacrifice a portion of the lawn.” 

Why so ? ” asked Mrs. Page. “ He can 
use our court whenever he wants to play.” 

“ How convenient that would be ! ” said 
Mrs. Carey. “ And now that Mr. Cortis is so 
much better, it will always be easy to make up 
a party. I must write at once and let Lowell 
know how good you are. It is so beneficial 
for him to come up, if it is only for a few 
hours.” 

“ How encouraged he must feel about Mr. 


SEPARATION 


127 


Cortis ! ” said Mrs. Page. “ I never saw any 
one alter so completely in every way. You 
know how quiet he was ; he never volunteered 
a remark, and he looked cross, and indifferent 
to what was going on near him. IS'ow, he is 
interested in everything that Mamie mentions ; 
he is animated and good-natured, and so hand- 
some ! The other evening he took off his 
glasses, and we were charmed with the beauty 
of his eyes and the expression in his features.” 

“Lowell ascribes the improvement to the 
effect of an open-air life; and, besides, he 
gives Mr. Cortis credit for patience and perse- 
verance. Few persons would have borne soli- 
tude as he has.” 

“ Oh, and have you heard that his crops are 
doing unusually well ? ” 

“ So Mr. Carey tells me. He proves to be 
quite a farmer.” 

“ He doesn’t try to write or read yet.” 

“ I know that. Lowell doesn’t express an 
opinion upon the subject. We all hope for 
the best.” 


128 SEPARATION 

Mrs. Page rose and found her wrap and 
gloves. 

“Now, remember to write to Lowell about 
the tennis court. We have plenty of balls 
and rackets.” 

Mrs. Bemerton left the parsonage with Mrs. 
Page. 


CHAPTEK XI 

Mbs. Aston devoted herself to the work in 
hand, cutting little piles of covers and care- 
fully putting them on the books, occasionally 
opening a volume and reading its title-page. 
Her silence was interesting ; she was thinking 
of serious subjects. Mrs. Carey often let her 
hands fall in her lap while indulging in the 
pleasures of the imagination. 

Of course, in her estimation, Lowell had 
only to woo. So she pictured this tall, grace- 
ful young woman at home in the parsonage. 
Lowell would have a charming house in Xew 
York, and thither his father could often go 
for change of scene and entertainment. She 
was so overjoyed by this contemplation of a 
fancy-drawn future, that her thoughts com- 
prehended the happiness of others. 

“ Mr. Cortis would make a very nice hus- 

129 


SEPARATION 


130 

band for Marj Page,” she said, musingly, 
without looking up. Mrs. Aston started, but 
succeeded in catching her book before it 
reached the floor. 

“ Did I startle you ? ” 

“Just for a second. We were so quiet. 
You were saying something about Mary 
Page.” 

“ Yes. If Mr. Cortis regains the use of his 
eyes, Lowell intends advising Him to remain 
in the country. Agricultural pursuits seem to 
suit him. I was thinking how pleasant it 
would be if he would settle here. Mary Page 
is a very superior girl. I think she would ap- 
preciate his flne qualities.” Mrs. Aston fin- 
ished folding a cover. 

“She is very young. Has she had much 
attention from men ? ” 

“ Hone that could be called serious. Lowell 
has paid her as much as any one ; but he has 
always known her, and his interest in her is 
of a brotherly nature. To him she is very 
gay and childish.” 


SEPARATION 131 

“I like her very much. Her gayety is 
attractive.” 

“ Indeed it is ; and to a man who has spent 
so many months in loneliness and depression 
it must be doubly charming. Ho one could 
have the ‘ blues ’ with Mary Page in the house. 
She never had a sad experience. She is an 
only child, and she has every comfort at her 
command.” 

“She should take her time, then, about 
marrying.” 

Mrs. Aston was using the scissors, and 
seemed too much interested in her occupation 
to pause for the discussion of even such a 
momentous subject as marriage. 

“ I like girls to marry young, provided they 
do it for love,” said Mrs. Carey. 

“ Don’t you think that very often they mis- 
take some other motives for love ? ” 

“Ho; not often. Sincerity belongs to 
youth. I have known girls to ‘ fall in love,’ 
as we term it, at fourteen, and remain in love 
with their husbands until death separated 


132 


SEPARATION 


them. I was twelve when I met Mr. Carey, 
and we were married on my seventeenth 
birthday. Love, you know, is partial. The 
woman who loves always puts the best con- 
struction on her husband’s actions. He is 
her hero, and it is her delight and pride to 
keep him such. As time goes on she learns 
his weaknesses, and to balance them she 
masses her strength. The ideal husband and 
wife are so perfectly united that no one can ^ 
find a fiaw in this mystical whole. Love will 
draw together individualities seemingly the 
most opposed. Yes. I believe in early mar- 
riages. Young love is like a little child — 
sweet and pure.” 

Mrs. Aston was crying. “ My dear, my 
dear!” Mrs. Carey went to her and kissed 
her forehead. “ You know I can feel for you. 
Put away these dusty books ; let us go into 
the fresh air. I should have been more 
thoughtful ; but, indeed, you are so young 
that I forget that you have loved and lost.” 

Mrs. Aston controlled herself. 


SEPARATION 


133 

“ I like to be occupied. I wish you would 
go on talking. It does me good to listen to 
you. You believe that pure motives bring 
good results.” 

“ Yes ; I do. Motives are like foundations ; 
they are out of sight, but we judge of them 
by what is built upon them.” 

“ Don’t you think that people may act from 
right motives, and yet be disappointed in what 
follows ? ” 

‘‘ Certainly ; because we cannot control oth- 
ers or understand their motives. However, 
we are only responsible for our own thoughts, 
words, and deeds. We are not even to judge 
those of others. We are to do what is honest, 
and we must not think evil of those about us.” 

That is a lovely theory,” said Mrs. Aston. 

‘‘ Every one can at least try to practise it. 
In a community like this it becomes a neces- 
sity. Every day Mr. Carey has to confront 
the misery caused by idle talkers or meddlers. 
Nine quarrels out of ten are caused by the 
interference of a third person. Mr. Carey has 


SEPARATION 


134 

often told me that in matrimonial troubles he 
has invariably found outside influence at work. 
A relative or a so-called friend will be aware 
of matters which the husband and wife should 
have kept to themselves, and instead of helping 
each other to bear the common burden, they are 
listening to suggestions and advice that simply 
increase their difficulties. Why, how nice the 
books look ! Mr. Carey will be delighted. I 
think I’ll leave them just here, so that he can 
realize how much you have done for us.” 

“ Suppose we put them all in their places, 
and then see if he notices what an improve- 
ment we have made in their appearance.” 

‘‘Oh, he’ll never be any the wiser if you do 
that.” 

Mrs. Aston laughed. 

“ I think I’ll try the experiment. Show me 
where the sets belong.” Mrs. Carey went 
into the library. “We keep them in this 
room. Mary Page is our librarian. If the 
books were left in the church they would be 
injured or lost, and our Sunday-school library 


SEPARATION 


135 

has few additions. JSTow, you can rearrange 
them in here to suit yourself. The shelves 
have been dusted. It would be nice if Mary 
Page were here with you, but I suppose she 
is enjoying her game of tennis. How prettily 
you have written the titles ! I am so glad to 
have some of your handiwork in the room. 
We shall always think of you when we open 
a book.” 

“ May I come to-morrow and cover more ? ” 

‘‘ If you will be so good ; and can you bring 
the wee laddie ? ” 

“ Yes, if you care to have him.” 

Mrs. Aston was placing the volumes in 
rows, alphabetically by the authors, when 
Mr. Carey came in and watched her, smiling 
pleasantly. 

‘‘Plenty of disorder there, I fancy. ]^ow 
that the tennis season has opened, the books 
will elbow and crowd each other like a mob. 
Are you in search of any particular work ? ” 
He sauntered towards the window. 

“JS’o ” Mrs. Carey stood in the door- 


136 SEPARATION 

way, and Mrs. Aston gave her a meaning 
glance. “ I don’t love mobs.” 

“ Tea is ready,” said Mrs. Carey ; and the 
rector went into the dining-room, being very 
hungry, and wondered what his wife and her 
guest found in the library to amuse them so 
much. The joke was recurrent and enlivened 
the meal, and as Mr. Carey was most happy 
when others were pleased, he beamed as 
brightly as if he had been let into the secret. 
He wandered off to his study for rest and 
meditation, and even there could hear faint 
echoes of musical laughter. 

He looked up, a little surprised, when Mrs. 
Aston tapped gently on the door and asked if 
she might speak with him. 

“ Come in ; certainly, I am at leisure.” He 
placed a low, deep, leathern chair for her, and 
raised the light so that he could see her ear- 
nest face turned to read his. She clasped her 
hands on her knees. 

“ I want to ask you if you consider a prom- 
ise binding.” 


SEPARATION 


137 


“ Generally speaking, yes.” 

A shade of disappointment deepened the 
gravity of her expression. She sat revolving 
his reply. 

“ There may be exceptional cases — I think,” 
she said, quietly. 

“ Yes ; a promise must be voluntary, and the 
one who gives a promise must know its nature. 
Fraud used in obtaining a promise would in- 
validate it. I am not familiar with the legal 
view of your question, but it is the moral side 
of it that interests you.” 

‘‘ Yes, the moral side. I made a promise — 
once, and I made it willingly. I really be- 
lieved at the time that I was doing right.” 

“ And now you think you were wrong ? ” 

“Yes ” Mrs. Aston raised her eyes to 

the rector’s. 

“Something has occurred to change your 
opinions in the matter ? ” 

“ I am changed. When I gave my word to 
do certain things, I know now that I was in- 
capable of forming a clear conception of my 


SEPARATION 


138 

duty. I was nervous, depressed, and weak. 
My judgment was warped. I was influenced 
by people physically strong, people whom I 
was accustomed to honor and trust. I was not 
mistress of myself.” 

“Will not those to whom you made this 
promise accept your present explanation, and 
release you from it ? ” 

“ I fear not. This is why I have come to 
you. Suppose I urge all these reasons, and 
they positively refuse to release me, what shall 
I do ? ” 

Mr. Carey rose, put his hands behind him, 
and walked back and forth, a habit when he 
was cogitating the important points in his ser- 
mons. 

“ This is an appeal from mental weakness to 
mental strength, consequent upon physical 
condition ? ” 

“ Yes ; besides, the strength came gradually, 
and with it the chance to think. I have been 
alone, away from prejudiced people. I have 
seen myself as I was, a victim of nervousness 


SEPARATION 


139 

and mistaken kindness. Had I remained in 
the city, this insight of my own position would 
have been impossible. Even had I grown 
strong, the governing influences would have 
held me in the path I was taking. Bo you 
know, I honestly believed that I was doing 
right?” 

“ Yes ; I understand that morbid state, in 
which we all find ourselves at times. We 
think conscience is guiding us, when we are 
simply yielding to our desires, our passions, and 
our prejudices. Mrs. Aston, I will ask you, is 
your happiness involved in this question ? ” 

She hesitated ; her cheeks flushed. 

“ My piece of mind is. I cannot keep this 
promise ! ” 

‘‘ You are quite satisfied that conscience and 
reason are controlling you now ? ” 

“ And my duty to others. I used to consider 
and cherish my own rights. How I can rec- 
ognize the rights of others. We cannot live to 
ourselves.” 

“By all means, obey your conscience. A 


140 


SEPARATION 


promise which causes unhappiness and injus- 
tice should not be kept. But no sensible per- 
son would hold you to a promise made under 
the circumstances you describe.” 

‘‘ Oh ! do you think so ? ” she cried, joyfully. 
“ How happy you make me ! ” 

“ I see.” Mr. Carey looked at her shining 
eyes. “ You have only to speak and look as 
you do now, and you will win your case. Any 
one who loves you will realize that your best 
feelings are at work within you.” 

‘‘ Yes ; my whole future depends upon what 
I do now.” 

‘‘ Then, seek peace of mind ; let what will, 
follow.” 

“ You are so good, so kind, so patient with 
me.” 

“And if my advice helps you, imagine how 
gratified I feel. Mrs. Aston, you impress me 
as being fully qualified to judge what is mor- 
ally your duty. You are in perfect health, 
competent to consider the matter in all its re- 
lations. The more important it is, the greater 


SEPARATION 


141 


the necessity for you to regard it calmly and 
reason out the effects of your individual con- 
duct upon all concerned. If you can assume 
the position of an impartial witness, and view 
yourself dispassionately while reaching the con- 
clusions that you intend shall govern your fu- 
ture actions, I think you may be trusted in 
your decision.” 

Mrs. Aston put out her hand. 

“ I suppose I ought to be more explicit — but 
I ” 

“ ITo, not at all. Protect your own secrets. 
A clear mind, a kind heart, and a sensitive 
conscience can solve any problem that a Chris- 
tian has to face.” Mr. Carey pressed her 
hand. “ Pray, my child, for light, for serenity, 
for the wisdom and the divine strength to do 
to others as we would have them do to us. 
Love is mighty.” 

Mrs. Aston looked steadily at Mr. Carey 
while he spoke ; then she rose and turned to 
the door. 

“ I think I will go home now. You have 


142 SEPARATION 

helped me. You have said what I was hungry 
to hear. Your words are like an anchor.” 

“ Shall Mrs. Carey and I walk with you ? 
It is a lovely night.” 

“ That would be charming.” 


CHAPTEK XII 


The moon was an enchantress; the three 
friends moved under its shadows, silent, sym^ 
pathetic, and pleased to watch the landscape. 
At Mrs. Aston’s gate they paused to linger a 
few moments in the sweet air. Mrs. Aston 
had been in a reverie. “ Good-night,” she said, 
gayly. “ To-morrow, Mrs. Carey, 1 am going 
to make another attempt. How early may we 
come ? ” 

“ To breakfast, if you will, and I wish you 
would. The mornings are so lovely. Keggy. 
can have plenty of fresh milk, and I will find 
him some toys. A baby in the house is Mr. 
Carey’s dream of earthly bliss.” 

“ Then we’ll come to breakfast, Peggy and 
I. The dear little man will be delighted. He 
is always perfectly satisfied with me.” She 
laughed contentedly at this idea. 

“ She is very lovable,” said Mr. Carey, as the 
143 


SEPARATION 


144 

door closed on Mrs. Aston. No wonder the 
child is ‘ perfectly satisfied ’ to be with her.” 

“She has such an easy method with him. 
She lets him alone. Dear me, how much in- 
terest she has added to my existence ! — she and 
Mr. Cortis. I had no idea that a few persons 
of whom we had never heard a short time ago 
could make such a difference in one’s every-day 
life.” 

“ I hope .they will stay here. Cortis is un- 
consciously revolutionizing the town. I see 
gardens being made in every direction. Old 
fields that haven’t been touched for years are 
ploughed and planted with something. He 
has made industry the fashion. When a 
man who can’t use his eyes insists on doing 
good work every day, and controls a fellow 
like Watkins, people begin to think and 
wonder.” 

“ He has plenty of individuality,” Mrs. Carey 
said. “ I realized that when he was with us. 
I do hope he will get well and marry Mary 
Page.” 


SEPARATION 


145 

“ Marry Mary Page ! What put that idea in 
your head ? ” 

“ Why, he goes to see her so constantly.” 

“ITonsense, my dear. Gossip again.” 

“ Mrs. Page alludes to him very often. “ This 
afternoon he was there to mark out a tennis 
court.” 

“ Yes ; I saw him, and half a dozen of the 
young people helping him. Mrs. Page never 
conveys a perfectly accurate impression. She 
may not intend to exaggerate, and, perhaps, 
she fondly believes that Mary has attracted 
Mr. Cortis. Perhaps she has. Still, I should 
be very guarded about mentioning such a re- 
port. It would be disagreeable for everybody, 
and if it reaches Cortis it will end his visits at 
Mrs. Page’s, and deprive him of a relaxation 
that is doing him good.” 

“ W ell, I shall be very careful. I suppose 
Mr. Cortis does not consider himself an eligible 
man just now, and then Mary Page is very 
girlish.” 

“ I^ow you have reached the explanation of 


146 SEPARATION 

the intimacy. Suppose we go in and see 
Cortis.” 

“ Yes, indeed.” 

They found all the doors open and the lamps 
burning; but no one appeared in answer to 
Mr. Carey’s tapping. 

“We can wait a few minutes; he maybe 
up-stairs,” said Mrs. Carey. So they went 
into the sitting-room. This apartment always 
reminded Mrs. Carey of its owner’s condition ; 
neither books, pictures, nor writing materials 
were visible. The table held odd collections 
suggestive of fishing excursions and gardening. 
A saucer of water, in which lay some dande- 
lions nearly closed, was prominent, and several 
pipes and a tobacco pouch, some scattered 
matches, and a small pile of ashes proved 
that the occupant found some relief in smok- 
ing. 

“ He hasn’t come home yet,” said Mr. Carey. 
“ You say he was to dine with Mrs. Page. 
Mrs. Summers has left the lamps lighted for 
him. We will not wait,” 


SEPARATION 


H7 


“ I don’t wonder that he enjoys going to 
Mrs. Page’s,” said Mrs. Carey, with a compre- 
hensive glance. “The dulness here must be 
intolerable.” 

“ I don’t think that Cortis takes that View 
of it. He has certain rules to follow, and he 
keeps temptation in the way of reading matter 
out of reach.” 

“ He certainly has a chance to think.” 

On the way out Mrs. Carey admired the 
flower-beds and the arrangement of the plants, 
and as the porch was inclosed by climbing rose- 
trees, they sat down on a rustic bench to watch 
the shadows that lay on the floor. While thus 
absorbed they were attracted by the sound of 
light steps, and perceived a woman’s figure ap- 
proaching. 

“ Why, it is Mrs. Aston ! ” said Mrs. Carey. 
“ Can anything have happened ? ” 

The rector rose and went towards the gate, 
and the figure in the road turned suddenly and 
rapidly retreated. 

“ Are you sure that was Mrs. Aston ? ” 


SEPARATION 


148 

“ I think so. She must have seen you and 
thought it was Mr. Cortis.” 

“ Why should that frighten her ? It is still 
early ; I suppose she wants to stay in the open 
air. Suppose we go and reassure her.’’ 

Mrs. Aston was sauntering about her gar- 
den, and she laughed at Mr. Carey’s explana- 
tion of his unexpected appearance on Mr. Cor- 
tis’s lawn and the momentary fright that she 
experienced. It was so balmy under the trees 
that they remained for some time out of doors, 
and Mrs. Carey joined Mrs. Bemerton in the 
sitting-room. 

Mrs. Bemerton was politely curious in regard 
to the Pages, although she had often heard all 
there was to tell about them. She had strolled 
all the way home with Mrs. Page that after- 
noon, and had witnessed a portion of the work 
of making a tennis court. It had occurred to 
her, perhaps very naturally, that Miss Page 
looked well in her white woollen dress, with 
here and there a touch of gold and scarlet, and 
that Mr. Cortis had found it convenient to keep 


SEPARATION 


149 


very close to her while doing his share of the 
labor. They seemed to have a great deal to 
say to each other, and said it with much mer- 
riment and an air of confidence. It was now 
eleven o’clock, and, according to the Careys, 
Mr. Cortis had not reached his home. Although 
these ladies did not say so, they thought that, 
if there was no fire, something closely resem- 
bling smoke was very apparent in the atmos- 
phere surrounding Miss Page and Mr. Cortis. 

Mr. Carey was very thoughtful during the 
walk homeward. He wanted to hear every- 
thing that his wife knew or conjectured about 
Mrs. Aston, but he did not like to mention 
that lady’s name lest his wife should expect a 
return confidence. Although alone with him 
in the garden, with ample opportunity to talk, 
Mrs. Aston had not even alluded to their con- 
versation in his study. This fact perplexed 
him, because he felt sure that the alteration in 
her manner and expression was the result of 
that interview. 

‘‘ Was it the effect of the moonlight, or did 


SEPARATI ON 


150 

Mrs. Aston look unusually handsome just 
now ? ” asked Mrs. Carey, after a long period 
of castle building. 

‘‘I think the light of happiness had the 
most to do with it. Her temperament is nat- 
urally joyous. She is honest, and delights in 
the beautiful. Left to her best impulses, she 
reflects the pleasure she gains from what is 
good and pure about her. Honor, what two 
old fogies we are, to be sure ! We are count- 
ing upon the presence of this charming 
woman, and no doubt her own people in the 
city are longing to have her with them. She 
would be missed from any home. She is like 
to the sunshine.” 

Mrs. Carey looked at her husband’s sensible 
face ; her voice faltered. 

“ Dear, haven’t you noticed anything pleas- 
ant ” 

“ Do you mean Lowell’s frequent visits ? ” 

“Yes ; he comes to see her.” 

“ Are you quite sure of that, Honor ? ” 

“Yes; and I am so pleased ” 


SEPARATION 


151 

“ Not the least bit jealous, eh, Honor ? ” 

‘‘ Not the least. I shall be perfectly satis- 
fied if he marries her.” 

“Well, you women have always puzzled me. 
You have such a curious science of matrimo- 
nial arithmetic. You put things together that 
I would never think of adding. For instance, 
Lowell runs up to see Cortis.” 

“ Yery true; but he spends hours with Mrs. 
Aston, and he says that nature is curing Mr. 
Cortis. Lowell simply watches the progress 
of the recovery. When Mr. Cortis was first 
here Lowell did not come very often to see 
him.” 

“ I know ; he said he could do nothing. I 
suppose you are right. Mrs. Aston is the at- 
traction. It would be very nice. Honor, to 
have such a daughter. Lowell can afford to 
marry ; he told me so within a year. I won- 
der if they understand each other.” 

“ She comes to the house voluntarily ; still, 
Lowell hasn’t said anything.” 

Mr. Carey grew thoughtful, and, long after 


152 SEPARATION 

his wife was asleep, he sat in his study recall- 
ing everything that had been said there by 
Mrs. Aston. He wished that he had a 
woman’s gift for the science of love’s indica- 
tions. He felt that he held some clew to Mrs. 
Aston’s position, but in his possession it was 
useless. This promise which she intended to 
break might have something or everything to 
do with his son’s future welfare ; but she had 
confided in the father as a spiritual adviser, 
and he held her communication sacred. 

On the following day he took occasion to 
observe her even more closely than usual. 
Her movements were graceful ; she held her 
head erect ; there was to him an air of exulta- 
tion in her manner when not engaged in con- 
versation. She had a way of lifting Reggy, 
heavy as he was, and carrying him on her 
arm, that amused and pleased the rector. The 
action expressed mutual ownership to the high- 
est degree. The rector joined in the laugh 
against himself when the rows of books in 
their new uniform met his surprised glance. 


SEPARATION 


153 


“You have remarkable pertinacity, Mrs. 
Aston. Those books have been giving me a 
headache for months.” 

“ That means obstinacy,” she laughed, mer- 
rily. “ I do like to finish what I commence.” 

“ Obstinacy may be commendable,” said Mr. 
Carey. 


CHAPTER XIII 


One lovely June afternoon the coach 
brought to town along with the mail a tall, 
slight, gray-haired gentleman, who directed 
the driver to stop at Mrs. Aston’s. Accord- 
ingly, the great vehicle with bells jingling ap- 
proached Mrs. Aston’s house, attracting all its 
occupants to doors and windows to see who or 
what was coming. 

“Why, it’s dadd}^” cried Mrs. Aston, 
catching Reggy from his high-chair and his 
mug of milk, and rushing with him to the 
gate, where they were hugged and kissed by 
the delighted stranger. Mrs. Bemerton next 
appeared on the porch, secretly exulting over 
the effect of her letter. “ Richard, I’m very 
glad to see you. How do you think Marion 
looks?” 

“Elegant! splendid! You all look bloom- 
ing.” Mr. Barrett glanced at the small group 
>54 


SEPARATION 


155 


surrounding him. His daughter’s eyes were 
sparkling, her cheeks were flushing with pleas- 
ure ; there were gold lights in her wavy brown 
hair. A soft, white “ Mother Hubbard ” gave 
her something of the appearance of a great 
child carrying a doll miniature of itself. * 

‘‘ Reggy has forgotten his own dear 
grandpa, and grandpa must have some din- 
ner.” 

“Yes, indeed; the air and the drive have 
made me very hungry.” Mrs. Bemerton dis- 
appeared kitchen ward. Mr. Barrett took a 
chair on the porch, put Reggy on his knee, 
and drew Mrs. Aston to a low seat at his side. 
“It is so nice, dear, to have you near me. 
Your mother and I miss you more and more 
every day. However, very soon now we shall 
have you back again.” 

Mrs. Aston’s face rested against her father’s 
shoulder. 

“It would be lovely if you and ma could 
come up here for the summer. Isn’t the coun- 
try beautiful ? I am in love with this place.” 


SEPARATION 


156 

“Your mother might come, but I don’t 
think she would be willing to stay here unless 
I could remain with her. That is impossible ! 
It is too far away. It takes too much time to 
get here.” 

Mrs. Aston gave a sigh. 

“ I think if ma could see how comfortably I 
am settled here, she would enjoy being here. 
The garden is so pretty, the roses are nearly 
in bloom, and I am going to have such quan- 
tities of them. You must send me some large 
jars for the house.” 

“Oh, well, very soon now we can find a 
convenient place nearer town. The journey 
here would tire your mother too much. I am 
anxious to have you back with her. She 
needs you.” 

“Yes; and Reggy was a comfort to her,” 
said Mrs. Aston. “ But you look quite your- 
self, daddy, dear. I thought you never would 
find time to come and see us.” 

“ I knew you were in good hands, and I 
could tell by your letters that your old spirits 


SEPARATION 


157 


were returning. After this, Marion, pet, there 
will be no need for a separation of any 
length.” 

Mrs. Bemerton’s appearance may have pre- 
vented a reply. Dinner was ready, and Mr. 
Barrett liked a well-cooked, well-served meal. 
The fresh vegetables were fully appreciated, 
and there was a great deal of family news for 
Mrs. Bemerton and Mrs. Aston to discuss. It 
was growing late in the afternoon when Mr. 
Barrett took possession of an easy-chair in the 
drawing-room, lit a mild cigar, and evidently 
began to meditate on matters more serious 
than the incidents which he had been re- 
lating. 

Reggy wandered from room to porch in 
pursuit of transitory pleasure, and his mother 
often followed him to conceal a certain sense 
of uneasiness from her father’s keen observa- 
tion. She spoke from the hall. 

“ Daddy, would you like to sit out-of-doors ? 
It is so pleasant under the trees. Reggy is 
devoted to butterflies and insects of every de- 


158 SEPARATION 

scription. He is watching a spider just at this 
minute.” 

Mr. Barrett rose and went out on the porch, 
drawing his daughter’s arm in his own, and 
speaking quietly. 

“ It is very nice, Marion, cool and healthful. 
The change has benefited you wonderfully — 
wonderfully ! I wish your mother could see 
you. I wish I could stay with you and enjoy 
this peace.” 

“ You must stay, daddy. Let business take 
care of itself for a while. I’m sure nothing 
very dreadful would happen if you took a nice 
little vacation here with Reggy and me.” She 
put her arms around his neck and kissed him. 

Mr. Barrett’s laugh meant unutterable 
things. 

My girl, you know nothing about it.” 

“ It does seem too bad, daddy, dear. I have 
nothing to do, and everything I wish for, and 
you cannot take a few days in a year and for- 
get your work and enjoy a rest. It is not 
fair ! 


SEPARATION 


159 

“ On© of these days, pet, I may be able to 
throw off the harness.” She sighed. 

“But you have been telling me that ever 
since I was a child.” 

“ My dear, money must be earned ; it doesn’t 
come without toil and forethought. Business 
is a treadmill.” 

“ Couldn’t we all do with less ? ” she asked, 
gently. 

His smile was peculiar. “ Perhaps, had you 
been differently brought up. You were reared 
to expect luxuries ” 

“ That is so, I suppose ; but, daddy, I never 
realized until lately what these luxuries must 
cost you. Your health and happiness are to 
be sacrificed. You give us everything and 
keep nothing — not even the right to the rest 
and change that your health demands.” 

“ Marion, did you ever hear me complain ? ” 

“ I know that, daddy. That makes me feel 
all the more bitterly the injustice that is done 
to you.” 

“ Nonsense, child ! When I see you looking 


i6o SEPARATION 

beautiful, surrounded with comforts, enjoying 
money’s worth, I am satisfied. I have my 
recompense. I have worked to make my 
family happy.” 

‘‘But, daddy, there is another kind of happi- 
ness. If ma could see more of you; if you 
could spend hours enjoying all the lovely 

things of life together ” 

“Yes, dear; I understand what you mean. 
If, for instance, we lived on less, used fewer 
luxuries, were content to dwell here — or in 
any quiet country town. My child, that was 
once my dream. Under such conditions I 
might live to a green old age, as my parents 
and grandparents did before me. When I 
was a boy I loved the country. My theory of 
business and city life was simply to earn a sum 
sufiicient to enable me to return to the country 
and live free from anxiety about money.” 

“ And could you do it now ? ” 

“ If your mother were willing, yes ; but her 
existence is bound up in her present interests. 
She would be miserable in a place like this. 


SEPARATION 


i6i 

No, dear ; I shall work until some part of the 
machinery gives way. An office is supposed 
to hold all that I care for or covet. I may 
dream about something beyond ledgers and 
bank accounts ; that is sufficient.” 

“ It is all wrong.” 

“ How is it to be righted ? Indeed, Marion, 
I am very much to be envied, as the majority 
would tell you. I possess the things that 
most men are struggling and longing to grasp, 
and the desire for more has seized upon me. 
There is no half-way measure possible. I 
could retire from business and live elegantly in 
the country ; but if I stay in New York, my 
business must go on successfully. So, dear, I 
have to cut short my visit to you. In fact, I 
brought some papers for you to sign, and very 
soon now you shall be back in your own home, 
enjoying your old amusements.” 

Mrs. Aston looked at her father, and from 
him to Reggy, who had discovered a large 
brown caterpillar crawling up the post near 
him. 


i 62 


SEPARATION 


‘‘ I have put you to a great deal of trouble, 
daddy, trouble and extra expense.” 

“But we have gained our point, Marion. 
When the fight is won, who cares to count 
losses ? ” 

“ But is it won ? ” 

“Practically. You have nothing to do but 
sign these papers.” 

“ And then ” 

“ Then, child, you are free — free as the air 
about us. Think of it, Marion — think of it ! 
After all these weary months I It is like hav- 
ing a mountain lifted off one’s brain ! ” 

Mr. Barrett left the porch and strolled off 
under the maples and cherry-trees. He ob- 
jected to all exhibitions of feeling, and he had 
just almost given way to one. Mrs. Aston 
took Peggy on her knees, and fixed her eyes 
on his small features. He smiled softly, patted 
her cheeks with his dimpled hands, and then 
slid to the floor and returned to his study of 
natural history. Mrs. Aston called the nurse, 
put on a white shade hat that hung on the 


SEPARATION 


163 

rack, and took her father’s high, stiff beaver 
from its peg. The hat suggested the peculiar- 
ities of its owner. Mrs. Aston approached 
him ; her steps were inaudible ; he was look- 
ing at the small apples, and she put his hat on 
him, and then let her arm rest on his shoulders. 

“ The tree is very full. I wonder how many 
of them will come to perfection ? ” she said, 
eagerly. 

“ Oh, quite a crop ! The trees are in fine 
condition. You ought to have some good 
cider this fall.” 

“ Wouldn’t that be jolly, if you and raa 
would agree to come and enjoy it here ! ” 

Mr. Barrett sighed, then looked earnestly at 
his daughter, a smile lighting up his thin, set 
features. 

“ I was forgetting — you will be home by 
fall. We’ll enjoy our cider in our own dining- 
room.” 

“ Daddy, I want you to come down by the 
river, where we can talk without being over- 
heard. I want to ask you something.” 


SEPARATION 


164 

“ Well, dear, as you say. How lovely it is 
here ! The absence of dust and the fragrance 
of the foliage are refreshing. Which way do 
you go ? ” 

‘‘I’ll lead you. We’ll take the long, round- 
about road, because I want to talk with you.” 

She put her arm in his, and they strolled 
leisurely along the grassy foot-paths, stopping 
often to admire the view or examine some tree 
or plant that brought up visions of his early 
days to Mr. Barrett, l^ow, it was a sweet- 
brier, so hidden in the thick hedge that its 
delicate perfume alone betrayed its existence ; 
again, the wild roses, blossoming beautifully 
while supported by friendly boughs, attracted 
his attention. 

“You really like it here, child; and yet 
when I left you here you felt deserted.” 

“ I am glad now that you did bring me here.” 

“ Of course. Otherwise we could have done 
nothing for you.” 

“I know. You explained why I had to 
leave my own State and reside for a certain 


SEPARATION 


165 

period in another. Daddy, I have come to my 
senses in this State. JSTothing decided has 
been done ? ” 

“No; the way is all clear now. We go 
right ahead as soon as those papers are signed. 
You had better do it to-night. I want to get 
back to-morrow.” 

“ And I am not going to sign anything, 
daddy. I want to ” 

Mr. Barrett stopped in the middle of the 
path, and stared incredulously into his daugh- 
ter’s face. It was calm, gentle — if anything, 
appealing in its whole expression. 

“ What do you mean, Marion ? ” 

“ I want you to listen, daddy ; I am sorry 
for all the trouble I have caused you. I 
should have known better from the beginning.” 
She was holding his arm ; her voice was clear 
but low. “ I want to forget all the unhappi- 
ness of my life, and commence over again.” 

“ Well, my child, isn’t that precisely what I 
am trying to have you do ? But certain pre- 
liminaries have to be gone through with.” 


i66 


SEPARATION 


“ You don’t understand me. I don’t want 
this thing done for me. I want to remain 
just as I am for the present, and afterwards — if 
— if he ” 

“ What ! ” Mr. Barrett’s small, deep-set eyes 
began to blaze. 

“ hTow, daddy ! Please keep very quiet and 
let me tell you everything.” 

“See here, Marion, this matter has been 
talked over until there is nothing new to be 
advanced on either side. You two came to a 
settlement, the very wisest that could be 
agreed upon — you both promised to do thus 
and so. Your happiness was to be the first 
consideration. Now, be satisfied with what I 
am arranging for you.” 

For some minutes the father and daughter 
walked on, silent, thinking of what had been 
said. Then Mrs. Aston spoke quietly ; 

“ I have come to see that what was agreed 
upon was all wrong, radically wrong. If you 
won’t listen to me, why, you cannot follow my 
reasoning.” 


SEPARATION 


167 

“ Marion, you made a mistake once. That 
mistake must be rectified. You cannot live as 
you are situated now.” 

“ Why not ? ” 

“ Because your condition is anomalous. You 
occupy a false position, and it simply leads to 
unpleasant complications.” 

“ I know it does. For that very reason I 
want to go back where I belong.” 

“ Marion, you cannot mean what you say ! ” 
I do.” 

“ I shall never consent to it — never ! You 
were unhappy, ill — in a state of wretched de- 
pression ” 

“ Yes, that is quite true ; but I was in fault.” 

“Konsense, Marion! The fault was really 
mine. I never should have consented to such 
a marriage. I yielded to your importunities. 
Well, it turned out as I might have foreseen it 
would. You are again in my care, and this 
time, Marion, we shall be guided by common 
sensOy not fancy. You shall be free to make 
another choice. Pet, I am much richer than I 


i68 


SEPARATION 


was a few years ago. You shall have better 
opportunities to see and be seen. You shall 
travel, if you care to. Every wish shall be 
gratified ; only ” — he put his arm around her 
waist — “you must let me judge this time 
what is best for your happiness.” 

“I should be very, very happy, daddy, if 
you would let all this idea of another choice be 
forgotten.” 

“ I won’t allude to it, but I am determined 
to have you freed from unpleasant claims, and 
once more your own mistress.” 

“Just now I feel that I am my own mis- 
tress. I realize the drawbacks of my manner 
of living, and the true dignity that I should 
enjoy. The. whole trouble lay in the fact that 
I was unreasonable. I craved what he could 
not afford to give me. Then I let you and 
ma know that I was dissatisfied. I was wrong. 
I had been petted and humored at home. You 
were always able to gratify m}’’ desires. I 
was too ignorant, too exacting. I see it all 
now.” 


SEPARATION 169 

“ My child, the whole trouble was lack of 
money. You were brought up in luxury, and 
he was not equal to the requirements. He 
couldn’t support you properly ; you only asked 
what you needed, what you had always been 
accustomed to. You were perfectly right.” 

“ But, daddy, it was rather inconsistent to 
marry for love, and then quarrel because he 
could not buy me luxuries.” 

Well, you can’t be happ}^ without luxuries. 
I managed to get them for my wife and 
children.” 

“ Perhaps I did not allow him time enough. 
Did you give ma everything before you were 
married a year ? ” 

Mr. Barrett laughed satirically. 

“ Your mother was a ver}^ different woman 
from you, Marion. She helped me to make 
my fortune. She wouldn’t spend a cent un- 
necessarily. I tell you, we economized when 
we were young, but we did it cheerfully, be- 
cause we loved each other, and we were just 
as happy laying out ten dollars carefully as we 


lyo SEPARATION 

are now when we spend ten thousand for what 
we could live without. It is ail as one feels, 
child ; all as one feels. One woman is happy 
with a little ; another never can be happy, be- 
cause she always has her heart set on some- 
thing beyond her means.” 

Mrs. Aston turned to kiss her father’s cheek. 

“ Daddy, you are arguing now for my side. 
I am going to try and be as good a woman as 
my own mother. You will help me.” 

They had reached the river bank and an 
old bench, where they sat for some time, ap- 
parently watching the current and the fields 
and hills beyond. The sun was setting, and 
delicate pink clouds fioated near the blue, pro- 
ducing a lovely effect in the light that fiooded 
the landscape. Mrs. Aston looked at her 
father, attracted by his steady gaze. His face 
was troubled. 

‘‘Marion, you tested all these experiments. 
You reaped utter failure. I am not strong 
enough to assist you through another effort ; 
the result would be no better. I understand the 


SEPARATION 


171 


obstacles in the way better than you do. You 
know nothing of toil and industry. Your 
physical strength is not robust. You are an 
exotic. We won’t discuss this subject any 
farther. See how much good this rest has 
done you. The moment you were taken away 
from all these worries, your health returned. 
You can’t stand the drag of limited means. I 
don’t feel like supporting a son-in-law. We’ll 
take the sensible, matter-of fact method that 
the law allows. Forget what has passed, and 
keep your promise to me.” 


CHAPTEE XIY 

Mrs. Bemerton was growing somewhat 
restless. Eeggy was in bed, and tea was all 
ready, yet her brother and niece still lingered. 
Of course it was charming in the open air, and 
Eichard seldom had a chance to enjoy such 
beauties as Dame Nature offers her admirers. 
Still, the broiled chicken was deliciously 
browned, the biscuits were perfect, and every 
second of waiting injured the cook’s credit, to 
say nothing of the edibles. So Mrs. Bemerton 
impatiently wandered from room to porch, 
wondering and a trifle anxious. At length 
her eyes were rewarded ; the two figures were 
in sight. Mrs. Bemerton hurried to the 
kitchen to warn the cook, and then quickly 
retraced her steps to welcome her people. 
They were just entering the drawing-room, 
and her spirits sank as she looked at the two 

faces ; her pleasant sentence died w her lips. 

172 


SEPARATION 


173 


The cook might as well have taken a half 
holiday. The food lay untasted on the plates ; 
conversation was not attempted, and Mrs. As- 
ton seized the first opportunity to go to her 
own room. Mrs. Bemerton rose from the 
table, a little hurt, perhaps, at this reception 
of her culinary success, but too much worried 
at what she saw to think of her own disap- 
pointment. 

Mr. Barrett followed her into the drawing- 
room, speaking sharply : 

“ What has happened to Marion ? She re- 
fuses to sign any papers.” 

“Does she?” Mrs. Bemerton sat down, 
entirely overcome. Her brother paced back 
and forth, glaring at her and trying to speak 
calmly. 

“ Yes, positively ! ” 

“ Why, I can’t understand, Richard.” 

“ Heither can I. Why, she talks like a fool 
or a mad woman. After all we have done for 
her,. and spent and suffered, she wants things 
left precisely as they are. You gave me to 


174 


SEPARATION 


understand that she would only be too glad to 
have this matter concluded.” 

“Richard! You didn’t allude to Dr. 
Carey ? ” 

“ Oh, no. I know better than that.” 

“ I’ll tell you what it is, Richard. Marion 
understands Dr. Carey; she couldn’t help 
doing so, for he makes no secret of his inten- 
tion, and the girl is frightened. Y ou’ll have 
to give her time. She had to face the position, 
and the sooner the better ; but she is alarmed at 
the questions that it involves. Let her alone ; 
she will think them over when she is cool and 
rational. Then he will plead his own cause.” 

“You think this is simply an attack of 
cowardice ? ” 

“ Oh, yes. The moment you ask her to act 
decisively, why, woman-like, she shrinks from 
the responsibility. She fears that she may do 
something that will bring evil consequences. 
We can’t all be great, Richard, and rush in, 
like men, and do important things on the spur 
of the moment.” 


SEPARATION 


175 


“ There is something in that.” He sat down. 

“ Besides, Richard, just now Marion is very 
happy, and she dreads any change. That is 
natural. She enjoys this place so much. She 
is up in the morning like a bird, singing and 
going about the grounds. She works in the 
flower-beds, and watches the man in the field 
and garden as if she was intent upon learning 
how to raise vegetables. Of course, she can 
only do as you wish, Richard. She hasn’t a 
cent of her own, and she is as helpless as her 
own baby. What would ever become of her 
without means and servants ? She would 
freeze and starve by herself. You can have 
things as you want them, but be politic. 
Don’t threaten. Marion can be coaxed, but 
not driven.” 

“ Martha, I am not trying force ; but this 
thing has to be done now. The lawyer is 
waiting for these papers ; we have everything 
in good shape. I haven’t time to spend here 
going, over old issues. The girl must keep her 
promise.” 


SEPARATION 


176 

“ Shall I go up and speak to her ? ” 

“I wish you would. Perhaps you may set 
the case in another light from the one I put 
it in.” 

“I’ll try and show her your side of the 
matter, Richard. Marion owes you her 
obedience.” 

“I think so, Martha. She has no one to 
depend upon but me.” 

Mrs. Bemerton went up-stairs. The doors 
of Mrs. Aston’s rooms stood open, the win- 
dows were raised, and in the pleasant twilight 
Mrs. Aston was visible, seated near Reggy’s 
crib. She had changed her dress for a close- 
fitting costume of creamy silk and flowing 
woolen drapery. Her cheeks were flushed, 
her eyes were glittering, and at the sound of 
her name she rose and drew her aunt into her 
sitting-room and closed the doors. 

“I am coming down in a few minutes, 
auntie. I want to feel calm. What is pa 
doing ? ” 

“Waiting for you to agree to his request. 


SEPARATION 


177 

Marion, have you thought over all he has done 
for your comfort and happiness, dear ? Why 
not leave the whole thing to him ? He al- 
ways knew how to take good care of you, 
dear. He is far wiser than you are. He 
knows better what will suit you. Just think, 
my dear, how he has petted and loved you ; 
how he has worked for you ! Your father 
never said an impatient word to you, never 
caused you a tear.” 

“ I know that, auntie. I always have known 
that.” 

Mrs. Aston put her arms around her aunt’s 
neck. 

‘‘You mean kindly, auntie. I think both 
you and pa are convinced that I should do 
this thing — but it is impossible.” 

“ You would make so many people happy, 
Marion, if you would only get this over. I 
think I know how you feel. Consider every- 
body that is interested. Sit down here and 
think.” Mrs. Bemerton placed a chair for her 
niece, and then seated herself comfortably, 


SEPARATION 


178 

‘‘The truth is this, Marion. You should be 
quiet and matter-of-fact. Sentiment and ro- 
mance are ended so far as this question is con- 
cerned. You have a child and you both have 
to be supported. These are plain facts, and 
you may think me very practical; but, my 
dear, people can’t live on air and theories. It 
takes money to buy necessaries. See how 
your father lavishes luxuries upon you. Why 
not be good to him and take this care off of 
his mind ? ” 

Mrs. Aston’s clear eyes were fixed upon her 
aunt’s face. 

“ Auntie, you married when you were 
young. Was it for love ? ” 

“Yes, Marion.” 

“ Suppose some one had spoken to you as 
you are speaking to me now.” 

“ I couldn’t suppose that, dear. No, indeed ! 
You see, I was married in a different age. It 
is thirty-five years since Jack and I were mar- 
ried. I often wish I had been a better wife. 
We didn’t think alike about everything — it 


SEPARATION 


179 


wasn’t to be expected — and we had our little 
differences. However, we always made them 
up — yes, always I Ho outsider ever heard of 
them. Ah, well, it is pleasant to look back on 
those times. You see, dear, marriage used to 
mean oneness. When people got married, 
they went to work honestly to make each 
other happy, and to meet whatever changes 
came, together. Marriage was for life, and 
no temporal matter was supposed to affect it. 
Perhaps I am behind the age ; but nowadays 
people seem to marry for no reason in particu- 
lar. When the bustle and show are over they 
don’t settle down to help one another ; they 
want some new excitement to keep them 
busy. I suppose there is too much wealth in 
the country. There is no demand for the old, 
sterling virtues that bound two natures so 
beautifully.” 

“Auntie, you really came up to give me 
some quiet encouragement.” 

“Ho, dear. You belong to the present. I 
don’t presume to judge of what people call 


i8o 


SEPARATION 


modern reform and progress. You evidently 
made a mistake, and I can’t offer you any ad- 
vice beyond this : do as your father tells you.” 

“ That is — be irresponsible ” 

‘‘Yes; you can’t stand alone. Why not be 
amenable ? Let others do the thinking. You 
are very happy here, and in time you will be 
able, if you wish, to make a second choice. 
He can do the same thing.” 

Mrs. Aston’s flush deepened. Even in the 
dusk Mrs. Bemerton perceived it, and the 
strange flash in the great eyes reading her own. 
“You don’t mean that.” 

“Oh, yes, Marion. We might as well keep 
pace with the times. You can release him — 
and you must feel that he will be satisfied.” 

“ Oh, auntie, how mistaken you are ! ” 

“ !No, Marion ; I have eyes and ears as well 
as you have. J ust take a little time to think 
of what is going on about us. You two were 
never adapted to each other. He is poor, 
proud, and sensitive. He expected the devo- 
tion that belongs to the middle ages. You 


SEPARATION i8i 

are exacting, fond of luxuries, accustomed to 
having them, and naturally selfish. You 
should be the wife of a man of means, and he 
the husband of a woman who could be happy 
with moderate things. You are both good; 
but in marriage love must mean gentle con- 
sideration and sympathetic toleration. Pas- 
sion won’t cover every point of difference.” 

Mrs. Aston rose and went to the window, 
where she stood for some time looking out, 
occasionally pressing her hand to her burning 
cheeks. She was wholly unable to control 
her voice, but her aunt mistook the cause of 
this silence. She believed that she had found 
the vulnerable spot, and concluded to follow 
up the advantage. 

‘‘ I remembered our agreement, Marion. I 
did not mention anything to your father ; but 
I want you to recall everything that has taken 
place in the last few months. That evening 
that we spent at Mrs. Carey’s opened my eyes 
to what was going on. I did not like to tell 
you at the time, but I happened to go into 


i 82 


SEPARATION 


Mr. Carey’s study ” Mrs. Aston turned, 

speaking excitedly : 

“I know. So did I. If you suspect him, 
how guilty must I be ! Oh, auntie, I can 
vouch for him ! ” 

“ Can you vouch for yourself, Marion ? ” 

“ Must I answer you ? ” 

“No; I spoke thoughtlessly. I only want 
to impress you with this truth, and a very 
serious one it is. You have the opportunity 
now to give him as well as yourself another 
chance for happiness. Why not be generous 
to both ? It all rests with you. He has been 
very unfortunate, and I feel sorry for him 
myself.” 

“You think I would be doing him a kind- 
ness, auntie, if I kept my promise to pa.” 

“ I am sure you would be doing justice to 
every one.” 

“ I wish you and pa had been as candid 
with me at first as you are now. Perhaps I 
was not in a condition then to see my own 
shortcomings.” 


SEPARATION 183 

“You have a very good father, Marion; he 
saw then what you must realize now — that 
you were not equal to the demands upon your 
strength and patience. The struggle was kill- 
ing you by inches.” 

“ I was certainly very dissatisfied.” 

“ Yes, and unhappy. And now you are in 
danger of mistaking pity for something very 
different. I feared this for you all along. 
Instead of thinking of yourself, of your par- 
ents, of your future happiness, as you pledged 
yourself to do, you are fretting over his side 
of the matter. Now he can look out for him- 
self. Marion, I am going down-stairs. What 
shall I say to your father ? ” 

“ Tell him I will come to him in a few 
minutes.” 

Mrs. Aston waited until her aunt’s steps had 
died away ; then she went to Reggy’s crib, 
knelt beside it, and let her thoughts find vent 
in prayers. Tears relieved her; she entered 
the drawing-room feeling calm, strong, and 
equal to the struggle. 


CHAPTER XY 


Mes. Bemerton had taken refuge on the 
porch, where she could avoid hearing what 
was said in the drawing-room; and sad and 
nervous there she sat, mentally arguing every 
one’s side of the question on which the happi- 
ness of her brother’s family seemed to depend. 

Mr. Barrett had removed several books from 
the writing-table, placed some legal-looking 
envelopes in front of him, and was mechanic- 
ally examining the qualities of the pens on 
the stand. He looked up as his daughter 
joined him, conscious and proud of her beauty, 
and, to his surprise, she bent over him, clasped 
her arms around his neck, and sat on his 
knees. Her eyes were lustrous, her voice was 
winning. 

“ Daddy, you are going to be good to me 
and let me have my own way. Then we shall 

all be happy together.” 

184 


SEPARATION 


185 

He studied her face seriously, without any 
sign of relenting in his. She had drawn his 
arm around her, and now held it firmly. His 
voice and features were hard and cold. 

“ My child, I am very tired — very anxious 
about many things. You must, for once, be 
womanly and sensible. There is no room for 
caprice and childishness. I have carefully 
thought out this business ; I have regarded the 
rights of every one. I am not willing or able 
to spend any more time discussing it. The 
people who love you are all agreed as to what 
should be done to secure your future from an- 
noyance and trouble. Here are the papers I 

spoke of ” 

She put her hand on his. 

“ H o ; I cannot even look at them. Daddy, 
have you considered Reggy’s rights ? ” 

“ Reggy’s ! ” Mr. Barrett laughed sardonic- 
ally. “ I think you must like to strain points. 
I am going to secure your rights and my own. 
I’ve had enough of anxiety about you. Wq 
can take care of Reggy’s rights later on.” 


i86 


SEPARATION 


“ ITot if I keep this promise to you. Daddy, 
once for all, you will have to release me from 
it. I cannot, I dare not keep it ! ’’ She clung 
closer to him, resting her head against his 
shoulder and watching his face. Her voice 
had sunk to a whisper. “ You will not ask me 
to do a great wrong ; an injustice to my baby, 
an outrage to my own feelings. You will be 
good to me. Help me to be happy, to do right.” 

“ You must think me a fool, Marion. Didn’t 
you promise ? ” 

‘‘ Yes— I did.” 

“ You must be crazy.” 

“ I suppose I was nearly mad when I gave 
you that promise. You should not have ex- 
acted it then.” 

“Marion, what has come over you? You 
are enough to set a man wild. Do you sup- 
pose for one moment that I am going to give 
you up again ? Going to let you return to a 
man who cannot take proper care of you? 
No, indeed! Why, you are talking like a 
baby ! You are not competent to judge for 


SEPARATION 187 

yourself in any way. You don’t know your 
own mind. You forget your interests.” 

He suddenly put her from him, and rising, 
commenced to walk about the room. She 
stood motionless, her hands pressed to her 
heart, her features so beautiful in their calm, 
gentle determination that the sight exasperated 
her father. He returned to the table, angrily 
striking it. 

“ How are you going to defy my wishes ? 
Marion, you must — do you hear me? — you 
must do as I say. I insist upon it. I hold 
you to your promise. You shall obey me, or 
else ” 

The click of the garden gate was audible, 
and then Mrs. Bemerton’s welcome. Mr. Bar- 
rett retreated to the dining-room, and Mrs. 
Aston placed a book over the envelopes on the 
table. Mrs. Bemerton ushered in Dr. Carey, 
carrying a bouquet, books, and confectionery. 
Mrs. Aston gave him her hand. 

“Another surprise?” she said, cordially. 
“ When did you come ? ” 


i88 


SEPARATION 


“Within an hour. These violets were so 
suggestive of the country, that I could not re- 
sist the temptation.” 

“They are lovely,” she said, bending over 
them. “I must have dreamed of them, for 
early this morning I found a low vase that will 
hold plenty of water for them.” 

“ I’ll bring it, Marion.” Mrs. Bemerton was 
leaving the room, perplexed at her niece’s self- 
control. 

“ Will you ask pa to come in and see Dr. 
Carey ? ” 

It was some minutes before Mrs. Bemerton 
returned, carrying a very beautiful porcelain 
ornament, which she placed on the table in the 
space which Mr. Barrett had cleared. Mrs. 
Aston busied herself with the bouquet. 

“ Your father has gone for a stroll, Marion. 
I miss his hat.” 

“He never walks very far.” Mrs. Aston 
held a book towards her aunt. “ Here is the 
magazine you were wishing for. You can 
read your serial to-night, thanks to Dr. Carey.” 


SEPARATION 189 

She raised the wick, drew her aunt’s chair to 
the table, and then returned to the inspection 
of a piece of music which Carey was holding. 
It was all so sudden that Mrs. Bemerton sank 
into her chair and mechanically opened the 
pages ; then her cheek dropped on her slender 
hand. Could she be awake ? Yes ; the per- 
fume of the violets was not imaginary, and 
there was her niece with shining eyes and 
smiling lips, earnestly discussing the technical 
difficulties of a Bach fugue. Presently Mrs. 
Aston’s delicate fingers were illustrating her 
ideas of the composition, and Mrs. Bemerton 
tried to read with understanding, but in vain. 
The girl, seated gracefully at the piano, was 
a far more interesting study than the heroine 
whose fortunes she had been so anxious to fol- 
low. Mrs. Bemerton thought of her brother, 
wandering about alone, angry, disappointed, 
and baffled, his careful plans frustrated, his 
efforts all made in vain, his hopes scattered. 
Then . her eyes rested on the lover, leaning at 
the piano, his gaze fascinated, his reflections 


IQO 


SEPARATION 


enviable. Again, the mysterious monitor 
called conscience forced her to sympathize 
with the absent man, of whose thoughts she 
knew nothing. What would Mrs. Aston do ? 
Did she realize her position ? Was she capable 
of comprehending it? Would wisdom direct 
her, or would she resign herself to the prompt- 
ings of a sudden passion? Above all, how 
could she, in the presence of such overwhelm- 
ing responsibility, concentrate her attention 
on the perfect rendition of the music before 
her ? Was she what her nearest and dearest 
were the slowest to recognize, a great woman 
equal to grand inspirations and actions, or a 
trifler with the most sacred feelings that con- 
trol human beings ? 

For the first time in her young life she was 
opposing her father’s wishes, doing it with a 
self-control and quietude that suggested un- 
wavering resolution. Mrs. Bemerton felt like 
a human straw at the mercy of the winds of 
passion. 

Mr. Barrett had left the house in a condi- 


SEPARATION 


191 


tion of frenzy. In the whole course of his 
existence he had never suffered such mental 
and physical agony. Every passion of his na- 
ture was roused to the uttermost ; his reason- 
ing faculties failed him ; he went rapidly along 
the road, neither knowing nor caring whither,, 
gasping for breath, struggling for self-com- 
mand, for power to conquer this unforeseen 
obstacle to the success of his scheme. 

Fatigue at length overpowered him. He 
felt very old and helpless, and was glad to seat 
himself on a pile of boards at the roadside. 
Gradually his head cooled, his breath came 
easily, he began to look about him. He was 
sitting midway on a steep, stony descent. Be- 
low him the narrow path was hidden by un- 
derbrush ; to his right stood an old sawmill. 
The odor of newly cut wood mingled with the 
fresh fragrance of pine balsam was grateful to 
his senses. He could hear the steady pour of 
the Avater, and the fainter music of the stream 
rushing along its rocky bed to the river. 
Above him the stars were gleaming, and tall 


192 


SEPARATION 


trees in the ravine broke the moonlight and 
threw fantastic shadows on the hillside. It 
was a lovely spot, wonderfully adapted to 
meditation. The cool, sweet air was condu. 
cive to sensible thinking. Mr. Barrett took 
himself to task. What a fool he had been to 
let his temper master him! His daughter’s 
self-control had apparently won her a point. 
How absurd the whole misunderstanding was ! 
A helpless woman, depending upon him for 
her daily food — a mere girl — undertaking to 
reject his wise advice and carry out a plan of 
her own concocting ! Why had he not 
laughed at her objections, mocked her childish 
powerlessness ? His weak exhibition of anger 
had made her bold and determined. She had 
always been guided by him, always. He 
would have no one to blame but himself should 
he yield to her now. Yield ? Impossible ! 
Had he not set his heart on carrying out this 
arrangement ? Had he not succeeded thus far 
in all the minor details ? Self-confidence was 
the secret of victory. He had been wrong in 


SEPARATION 


193 


allowing her to discuss the matter with him. 
He would not listen to more words, talk was 
easy and useless ; he would insist upon having 
everything his own way. Having again con- 
sidered every one’s comfort and highest inter- 
ests, and concluded that he knew what was 
right and was in a position to do it, he rose 
and gazed about him. Where was he ? He 
could not recollect descending the steep path 
nor climbing it from the ravine. The reaction 
from unnatural excitement made him feel weak 
and chilly. He grew nervous as he considered 
his situation. An attack of sickness at this 
juncture, or indeed at any juncture, was most 
undesirable. The danger and the dread of it 
increased his uneasiness. A rapid inspection 
of the weather-beaten mill proved that it was 
in working order and had been recently used. 
The new boards were as yet unpiled, the lum- 
ber filled an outer shed ; small hills of sawdust 
rose beyond the heavy, silent machinery ; the 
bands hung damp and shining with oil. 

A vague sensation of pleasure took posses- 


194 


SEPARATION 


sion of Mr. Barrett. His surroundings recalled 
his youth and its delights. He crossed the rot- 
ting, mouldy floor, and reached a window 
through which the moonlight streamed, light- 
ing up the rafters and the rough walls. The 
view from the window was enchanting. He 
saw far below him a deep, narrow gorge, into 
which the water from the calm mill-pond fell 
foaming and then rushed away noisily down 
the ravine. The moonlight turned the rising 
spray into countless gems, while before him 
gray masses of rock rose perpendicularly, their 
rounded summit crowned with evergreens and 
verdure. 

The effect of this picture was soothing in the 
extreme. He enjoyed it for some minutes, and 
then returned to the narrow path. After some 
hesitation he followed the. descent ; why, he 
could not have explained, except that it was 
easier- to go down hill than up. As he walked, 
slowly and cautiously, for the path was full of 
small, loose stones that hurt his feet, he noticed 
the fragrance of the pines, and stopped at in- 


SEPARATION 


195 

tervals to inhale this tonic of Dame Nature’s 
mixing. Rhododendrons and laurels, fresh and 
dewy, offered him their delicate bouquets for 
the picking. The fairy clematis clusters 
brushed his shoulders as he passed ; the sweet 
fern under his feet exhaled perfume. Pleased, 
yet anxious, he reached a dangerous looking 
foot-bridge that crossed the narrow stream. 
It shook under his weight, but he took hold of 
the railing and continued his walk to the mid- 
dle of the doubtful structure. The path had 
ended at the bridge; he could discern no 
other on the side of the ravine from which he 
had come. Below him the water ran over 
rocks, and beyond the bridge he could only 
distinguish the massive trunks of great trees. 
He was now more puzzled than ever. He 
glanced up and down the picturesque gorge, 
afraid to lean against the slight railing, and 
heartily wished himself safe in his own house. 

Presently, to his great relief, he perceived 
two men rising from the shadows of the over- 
hanging rocks midway between the bridge and 


SEPARATION 


196 

the dam. They were evidently fishing in the 
dark pools, and had simply moved to change 
their position. Mr. Barrett hailed them, and 
one sprang up the steep bank and soon emerged 
from the dark background and approached him 
on the narrow bridge. 

“ Good-evening. I am a stranger here, and 

have lost my way Good God ! Cortis, 

you here ? What does it mean ? ” 

Unconsciously Mr. Barrett leaned heavily on 
the shaky railing and stared at Cortis, who 
met his indignant glance with a look of utter 
indifference. 

“ I came here for my health, Mr. Barrett.” 

“ When — when — how long ago ? ” 

“ Some months since.” 

“ And you have met Marion ? ” 

Accidentally, yes.” 

“ I see. You have been talking to her ” 

Cortis’s face darkened ; his voice, if possible, 
grew colder. 

“You are mistaken. We avoid each other 
consistently.” Mr. Barrett drew himself up. 


SEPARATION 


197 


“ I wish you would leave this place.” 

“ That would be impossible at present.” 

“ Why so ? Your presence here is having a 
very bad effect ” 

“ Possibly.” 

“ That is, it may — it may — I say — interfere 
with certain plans of mine.” 

‘‘ I think I surmise your intentions.” 

Cortis had taken off his soft hat, and the 
moonlight shone full on his quiet, strong fea- 
tures. His eyes were fixed on Mr. Barrett’s 
agitated face. 

“And you are anxious to thwart them?” 

“ To be frank with you, Mr. Barrett, I have 
not yet allowed myself to feel at all about the 
matter. I found it a positive necessity to avoid 
anxiety, to devote myself to pleasant occupa- 
tions, to hold my thoughts in check, to dream 
of happiness. By so doing I have conquered 
health of mind and body. Chance or Provi- 
dence, you may take your choice, brought me 
here. I naturally put my own constructions 
upon what I saw and heard. You tell me my 


SEPARATION 


198 

being here is counteracting your influence. I 
am very glad to hear it ! ” 

“You’re a scoundrel, sir! You gave me 
your word not to meddle in my plans for se- 
curing my daughter’s future from evil. You 
must leave here ! ” 

“ I haven’t broken my word to you. I re- 
gret making you that promise. I was at a 
grievous disadvantage, and I thought that I 
was doing what was best for Marion. I 
did not suppose that you would push your 
triumph to the extent you are contem- 
plating.” 

“ I never was a man of half-way measures,” 
said Mr. Barrett, with a contemptuous sneer 
that brought a flush to Cortis’s face. 

“ Perhaps so ; but have you seriously consid- 
ered the magnitude of the responsibility that 
you are assuming ? ” 

“ I am not going to let that idea worry me. 
I shall take the most decided steps to protect 
my daughter from you. She has suffered 
enough through my short-sightedness and your 


SEPARATION 


199 

presumption. She shall never again be exposed 
to poverty ! ” 

‘‘ So that was my crime ? ” 

Cortis spoke coldly ; Mr. Barrett looked em- 
barrassed. 

“ It certainly led to all your troubles. Now 
that we have met and are alone, we might as 
well come to an understanding. You say you 
penetrate my object. Are you going to give 
me extra work by opposing my efforts ? ” 

“ I told you a few minutes ago that I had 
not given the subject any consideration.” 

“Well — you can do it now.” 

Cortis was leaning against the bridge. Mr. 
Barrett glanced at his blue overalls, high boots 
and flannel shirt. 

“ No ; I shall require time. If you are sen- 
sible, you will try to comprehend what you are 
demanding. I am going to think over what 
you ask me to resign.” 

“You have virtually resigned everything. 
I tell you, if money can win this suit I’ll gain 
it. I don’t care how long it may take. I don’t 


200 SEPARATION 

care what obstacles you may throw in my 
way.” 

“Wealth is the impassable barrier.” 

Cortis spoke so quietly and thoughtfully 
that Mr. Barrett suddenly assumed his tone 
and manner, and became cool and business-like. 

“ Precisely. You are rather at a disadvam 
tage. Why not take a matter-of-fact view of 
the subject ? Let me arrange this thing with- 
out any unnecessary publicity, and I’ll do any- 
thing in my power for you in a business way. 
Of course, you may have regrets and all that, 
but, dear me ! the world is full of pretty women. 
You have had time to forget. We outlive our 
little heart affairs. They pass like other ex- 
citements; new ones fill their place. We can 
settle this question quickly and — amicably.” 

“You amuse me,” Cortis said, dryly. 

“ How so ? ” 

“ Why, this dollar-and-cent side of the mat- 
ter is quite a study — a revelation. However, 
I am fully prepared now for anything in the 
way of a surprise. I am shock-proof.” 


SEPARATION 


201 


“ Come, come, this is mere trifling. Let us 
get down to facts and action. How much 
time do you want to consider my offer ? ” 

“ In other words, what will I take in gold 
for my rights ? ” 

“ Exactly. I can afford to be generous, and 
I am willing to be so.” 

“ If we had found ourselves as we are now, 
some time ago, I think I would have pitched 
you into that mill-race. You see what a 
healthy existence does for a man’s moral 

strength, Mr. Barrett, two years ago, my 

Ho ; I won’t say it. I think in this discussion 
there is a waste of time and vitality. I no 
longer recognize you in the position you as- 
sume. This question has naturally passed out 
of your care — it has outgrown your capacity. 
Your influence has died very gradually, because 
your daughter’s character developed slowly. 
You are no longer responsible for her thoughts 
or actions. Allow me to suggest to you the 
propriety of letting us manage the affairs that 
Qonceru us persoually, You exacted a prom’ 


202 


SEPARATION 


ise from us at a moment when we were all too 
excited to realize the injustice of it. I am sure 
we have had time to discover the mistake we 
made. Your simple duty is to release us from 
our promise, and help us in every way to for- 
get all that was unpleasant and wrong in the 
past. If you will look at the facts, you will 
conclude that I am right.” 

“ I don’t understand you. I think you must 
be mad or dreaming ! ” 

“ ITo ; I am only sensible. This strange co- 
incidence has taught us a similar lesson. In 
the very nature of things, the result could not 
have been otherwise. You have been holding 
to one theory, hugging one idea; we have 
progressed in the interval to a broader and 
better view of life and its possibilities. You 
may be unkind and cause us more suffering, 
but the end is only postponed.’^ 

“You have been talking to Marion. You 
cannot deny it ! ” A lovely smile irradiated 
Cortis’s features, tell you, once for all, 
you shall never agaiu have her in your power. 


SEPARATION 


203 

Never! I should think your poverty alone 
would make you more modest.” 

Somehow, my poverty, as you term it, has 
taken a different aspect of late ; it begins to 
look like a competency.” 

“You take rose-colored views of your cir- 
cumstances.” 

“ Thank God, I see my blessings.” 

“Do you? Well, I can’t read riddles. I 
see no change in you. I haven’t heard that a 
fortune has come to you unexpectedly. I 
know of no reason why I should alter the de- 
termination I reached two years ago. I am 
very glad to find you so philosophical. If 
you can enjoy life, situated as you are, I am 
pleased to know it. If you should think 
better of my offer, it will remain open to 
you.” 

“It would be very much easier for you to 
act on my suggestion. It would simplify 
matters wonderfully. Let me beg of you to 
give up this wild scheme. It is imprac- 
ticable ” 


204 


SEPARATION 


‘‘Why, you are impertinent, sir. You for- 
get yourself ” 

“ But I remember you. Mr. Barrett, there 
is no weapon in your possession that can 
wound me. I stand before you to-night a 
supremely happy man. You have unwit- 
tingly given me the one assurance that I 
longed to hear.” . 

“You have mistaken my meaning. Your 
presence in this place has excited my daugh- 
ter; she allows herself to be troubled by 
absurd doubts. If you will not leave here, I 
shall remove her. Her comfort must be se- 
cured at any cost. You must keep away 
from her. I know how to take care of her ; 
you do not. I insist upon your promise being 
kept. If you will show me how to reach the 
house, I shall feel indebted to you.” 

“ You will have to retrace your steps,” said 
Cortis ; “ I will go ahead. So this conversa- 
tion leaves us wholly unconvinced.” 

Cortis turned at intervals to assist Mr. 
Barrett, who found it impossible to talk while 


SEPARATION 


205 


mounting the steep hill. Several times he 
leaned heavily on the young man’s arm, and 
thus they reached the level above the ravine. 
Once there, the houses were in sight ; and the 
moonlit road, with the tree shadows darkening 
it, stretched before them, 

“ Thank you ; I think 1 can find my way 
now.” 

“ I’ll go as far as the bend ; from there you 
can see the house.” 

They went slowly, to suit Mr. Barrett’s 
steps. Two tall figures coming from a leafy 
lane beyond reached the road and strolled 
ahead of them. Mr. Barrett glanced at his 
companion : 

“ Isn’t that my daughter ? ” 

“ Yes.” 

“ I can keep her in sight. I will not trouble 
you. One word — think over my proposi- 
tion.” 

“ One moment,” said Cortis, detaining him 
and speaking with cool emphasis : 

“ Two years ago, instead of acting as peace- 


2o6 


SEPARATION 


maker, you dared to interfere in my domestic 
matters and succeeded in breaking up my 
home. You exacted a promise which has 
virtually separated your daughter from me. 
Now you are trying to compass a wrong, an 
irreparable one, and to do it, you are willing 
to outrage the most sacred feelings of human 
nature. You are unscrupulous. You have 
acted dishonorably. Can you offer any ex- 
planation that an honest mind would accept 
of the deceit which you have practised? 
Look at the present condition of your 
family affairs. Have you no proper, manly 
pride ? ” 

“ You are impertinent. Let me go.” 

‘‘No: you shall listen to me. You owe me 
so much. Here is your daughter, a sensitive, 
refined woman, placed in a false position, 
masquerading as a widow, exposed to the idle 
gossip of the place — what is still worse, at- 
tracting attention from a sincere, high-princi- 
pled man, who believes her free to accept his 
devotion. Have you no regard for her? no 


SEPARATION 207 

just consideration for him ? Before you move 
another step in this disgraceful business, sit 
down and try to realize the part you are 
taking in it. See yourself as others see you.” 
Cortis abruptly turned and left him. 


CHAPTEE XTI 


Dr. Carey and Mrs. Aston slowly pursued 
their way. “Surely you are not anxious 
about your father ? ” 

“ I hope not ; I don’t think that he could 
possibly get lost. Still, for some reason, I 
feel curious at his long absence. Perhaps he 
has reached the house.” She forced a laugh. 
“ I thought we might meet him.” 

“The night may prove fascinating. Have 
you never felt compelled to remain in the 
moonlight, when common sense was advising 
you to go indoors ? ” 

“ Many a time.” 

“ ‘ And oft,’ eh ? ” He saw that she did not 
recognize a quotation. “By the way, have 
you read your Shakespeare since ? ” 

“Hot a line.” Her voice sounded very 
tired, 


208 


SEPARATION 


209 


“ You are still an optimist, I trust.” 

“ Oh, yes ; but I find it difficult to make 
converts. I have had a weary time to-day 
with my efforts.” 

“I half suspected that you were exerting 
heroic self-control during the last hour. You 
must not forsake your own standard. Can I 
do anything ? ” 

“ Talk of pleasant things.” 

“ May I not be sympathetic ? ” His voice 
sank. 

“Do you think I need sympathy?” Her 
voice shook. “I am really very happy. I 
have done as my conscience dictated. I ought 
to be brilliant with joy.” 

“ And why not ? ” 

“You will have to understand without an 
explanation. I feel that I am doing right, 
but I cannot convince others of the fact — and 
sol ” 

“You cannot exult if others do not share 
the triumph.” 

am so exhausted between grieving be-' 


210 


SEPARATION 


cause I cannot satisfy them, and realizing my 
own delight, that I am scarcely able to stand 
or talk.” 

“ Lean on me and say nothing. Enjoy your 
happiness to the uttermost. Why don’t you 
have mercy on yourself ? Take a good, hon- 
est cry.” 

He drew her arm in his, and they walked 
very slowly. Great tears welled in her eyes 
and trembled on her dark lashes. She caught 
Dr. Carey’s expression of mingled concern and 
tenderness, and smiled exquisitely : 

I haven’t played baby for so long that it 
feels very nice. One of these days, when you 
know all, you will understand how much I 
owe to you.” 

‘‘ To me ! What have I done for you ? ” 

‘‘Oh, everything !— more than I can ever 
tell in words. You have really brought about 
all my joy.” 

“ Dear me ! ” 

“You look so thoroughly perplexed.” 

I am, Is this the same old labyrinth ? 


SEPARATIOJ^ 


211 


“Yes — but I am nearly out of it.” 

“ Oh, thank heaven ! ” 

“ You can’t feel as thankful as I do ! There 
is a bench at the end of this walk — let us sit 
there until I get rested. I didn’t know that I 
was so tired. It is all so strange — so lovely — 
so unexpected.” 

Dr. Carey gazed at her with unaffected 
pleasure and admiration. She was in a 
charming revery; her eyes were downcast, 
her cheeks flushed, her lips parted in a smile 
that played with dimples. 

“ You make me very curious,” he whispered. 
“ I hope ‘ one of these days ’ will come soon. 
I dare not attempt to change the current of 
your thoughts. Y ou do not need me to talk 
trifles of a pleasant character.” 

“ I suppose I am very selflsh.” 

“Not at all. I should be so if I tried to 
disturb your present content. It is very nice 
here.” 

They had reached a grassy, well-shaded 
bluff, high above the river banks. Below 


212 


SEPARATION 


them rippled the shining water; the moon- 
beams reached them through the fresh, rus- 
tling foliage. Dr. Carey placed the bench for 
her against a large maple, and stood pressing 
his shoulder to the trunk. 

“ This is such a relief,” she said gently. 

“ What, crying again ? ” 

“I suppose I am silly.” 

“ You are very tired.” He spoke in a tone 
of alarm. 

“And I thought my nerves were so strong. 
As pa says, ‘ I’m like nothing on earth but a 
woman.’ ” 

“‘At best, a contradiction still.’ Crying 
for joy. Your sex should not count too much 
on your control of your nerves. They are apt 
to serve you well in many an unexpected emer- 
gency; then, again, they will fail you sud- 
denly and apparently for no reason. A strong 
man often finds himself in the same predica- 
ment. Were I a woman, I should avoid 
putting any unnecessary strain upon such unre- 
liable friends. They are similar to the people 


SEPARATION 


213 

we like — ^perfectly agreeable until we expect 
the unusual from them.” 

“ Do you really mean that ? ” 

“ As a rule — yes. The delightful exceptions 
prove it.” 

She was silent for some minutes. Carey 
was aware of the persistent tears sparkling on 
her lashes. 

“ I wonder if our friendship will stand the 
test ; because,” her voice grew clear, “ I con- 
sider you the best friend I possess.” 

“You overwhelm me with satisfaction.” 
Carey bent to meet her eyes beaming with 
gratitude. “I only wish you would tell me 
what I have done to serve you.” He took her 
hand and firmly pressed it. “ I would do any- 
thing in the world to please you ! I suppose 
you take the will for the deed.” 

“Ho; I’m sure of the deed.” Her smile 
was beautiful. 

“ Won’t you enlighten me ? ” 

“ I told you — ‘ one of these days.’ I hope 
it may be to-morrow.^ It cannot be too soon. 


214 


SEPARATION 


I suppose we ought to go back to the house 
and see if pa has come home.” 

“Yes; but don’t grow uneasy about him. 
Do consider those overtaxed nerves. You are 
trembling now from head to foot. Are you 
warm enough ? ” 

He drew her wrap over her shoulders, and 
sat on the grass at her feet, trying to interest 
her in the few topics that his mother had dis- 
cussed during supper. 

“ I hear wonderful tales of my patient. I 
hope some of them are correct.” 

“ You haven’t seen him yet ? ” 

“ Ho. I’ll look him up in the morning. He 
is probably at Mrs. Page’s to-night.” 

Mrs. Aston met Carey’s bright smile, which 
conveyed more than his words. Her eyes 
were grave ; she shook her head. 

“ That is wonderful, but not correct.” 

“So! Why, I was anxious to believe it. 
It would be a very happy result of Cortis’s 
forced visit to the country. You see, I in- 
sisted upon his coming here ; in fact, I made 


SEPARATION 


215 

it a condition when I agreed to take his 
case.” 

“I know ” She stopped, and turned 

away her face. Her cheeks were colorless ; 
she seemed unequal to the conversation. 

At that moment Cortis rose in sight, as he 
climbed the path which took a zigzag course 
from the water’s edge to the bluff. Mrs. 
Aston’s white dress attracted him; he came 
forward with rapid steps, and recognized 
Carey with his bright smile and a cordial 
salutation. He bowed to Mrs. Aston, and 
was replacing his hat when she offered him 
her baud. While he held it, lying soft in his 
strong, sunburned fingers, she stood up, draw- 
ing her cloak about her throat. The move- 
ment brought her quite close to him ; for the 
second he supported her, and his eyes rested 
on the hand touching the loose folds of her 
garment. Her rings flashed in the moonlight. 
Then she drew her hand from his clasp and 
turned to Carey. 

Let us all go back uo w. I feel able to walk, ” 


2i6 


SEPARATION 


They went slowly, Cortis seldom speaking, 
except in answer to the questions which Carey 
propounded. 

“Mrs. Aston has been quite anxious as to 
her father’s whereabouts. We expected to 
meet him.” 

“ I left him on his way home not very long 
ago,” Cortis said, so quietly that the subject 
was not continued. 

On reaching the house, the men declined 
Mrs. Aston’s invitation to enter, and Cortis 
waited at the gate while Carey opened the 
door for her. 

“ Good-night,” he said gently. “ Let me 
advise you to drink something that will make 
you sleep.” 

“Why didn’t you go in?” asked Cortis. 

“ Because I don’t care to meet her father. 
She is completely unnerved, and I think I in- 
terrupted a family quarrel. I hope for her 
sake that the old gentleman has retired. So 
you have met him ? ” 

‘‘Yes,** 


SEPARATION 217 

“ She was very frank with me ; she told me 
that she was satisfied because she had re- 
mained firm in the matter under discussion, 
but also troubled because she could not please 
others. I’ll wager she is right.” 

Cortis seemed intensely interested, but spoke 
thoughtfully. 

“ Mr. Barrett likes to have his own way.” 

“ How arbitrary some men become ! ” said 
Carey. “How they can bully women and 
make them suffer ! I never could understand 
such men calling themselves gentlemen.” 

“ Oh, they are not responsible for their 
words and actions at the time. They are 
mad for the moment. Passion controls them. 
However, they crush a woman’s spirits ; they 
make her life miserable, and blight their own 
happiness as a consequence. Who shall teach 
people self -conquest ? Hot I. I am strug- 
gling with the science myself.” 

“Yet the old man lavishes money upon 
her.” 

“ I think that is characteristic of his type. 


2i8 


SEPARATION 


A woman should have everything bat the 
right to think for herself and govern her own 
actions.’’ 

‘‘ I presume you are right,” replied Carey. 
“Now, I don’t call myself a curious person, 
generally. I often hear more than I care to 
know of a subject, without asking a question. 
I must admit that I would like to understand 
what affected Mrs. Aston so much.” 

“ She certainly looked very much agitated,” 
said Cortis, after a pause. “Some point in 
ethics, probably. She would yield in ordinary 
matters.” 

“Yes. I think she is remarkably gentle 
and womanly in every way. A principle 
must have been involved.” Both men grew 
meditative, and the subject was not again 
mentioned. Long after Carey had left him, 
declining to stay all night, Cortis sat in the 
deep shadows of the porch and recalled the 
incidents that had made the night a memora- 
ble one. It had brought to him so much hope 
and joy that he did not care to ask himself 


SEPARATION 


219 


what the morrow might have in store for him. 
He simply hugged his bliss. Hot far away, 
he knew, was a man who had just quitted him 
for the opportunity of dreaming of a future 
that could not be realized. 

Mrs. Aston found her aunt in the sitting- 
room. Mrs. Bemerton’s cheeks were flushed 
and her eyes glittered with excitement. She 
was sitting near a table on which refreshments 
and hot coffee looked very inviting. 

“ Where is Dr. Carey ? ’’ 

“ He wouldn’t come in. Where is pa ? ” 

“ He is gone back to town. Sit down here, 
Marion, and eat something. You must be 
worn out. You’ll have to think of yourself. 
How eat a sandwich, and I’ll make you a 
milk-punch. You needn’t worry about Rich- 
ard. I think men are the most unreasonable 
creatures in the world ! They go crazy before 
they give you a chance to explain anything, 
and then they are too furious to understand 
you. Here, sip this slowly and eat your sand- 
wich. You have been used up once by men’s 


tempers ; now, it’s not going to happen 
again ! ” 

“ I know he met Mr. Cortis.” 

“Yes; and he was just beside himself, be- 
cause he said we had deceived him. I couldn’t 
get a word in edgewise. He stormed about, 
and threatened all sorts of things. Finally 
he said that Cortis had flatly refused to leave 
here, and that you wouldn’t come to your 
senses as long as he was in the neighborhood. 
So we are to move to some other part of the 
State. We are to pack up and be ready to 
start at a moment’s warning. Did you ever 
hear of such folly ? ” 

“ I wonder he did not wait to see me.” 

“ He said it was useless to waste time talk- 
ing to you. He has a business engagement 
that he must keep to-morrow afternoon. He 
would have left anyhow in the morning. I 
was very glad when he quitted the house. I 
was tired out listening to his fault-finding. 
Perhaps the ride in the night air will have a 
soothing effect upon him. I declare, the older 


SEPARATION 


221 


he grows, the more tyrannical he becomes! 
One would suppose I was his slave I ” 

“ Poor auntie 1 Sit here and let me pet you. 
I am sorry, because it is all my fault from be- 
ginning to end. Perhaps you will soon be 
able to enjoy your quiet home again. You 
have had enough of trouble trying to make me 
happy. You see, wrong means won’t bring 
right ends.” 

“Marion, dear, I am not complaining of 
you. Richard is my brother, and he should 
have some feeling and respect for me. I don’t 
know what the servants thought. They could 
hear his voice, if not his words. I said very 
little, for that reason.” 

“ Do you think they could understand 
him?” 

“Ro. Marion, I see no end to this. We 
are back to where we started. Your father 
will never give up his decision. Some of the 
people here are very pleasant, and I am quite 
contented for the present ; but think of facing 
another set of strangers ” 


222 


SEPARATION 


Mrs. Aston stood up and gave her aunt an 
affectionate, hug. ‘‘We won’t think of it at 
all, auntie. I feel very much better, thanks to 
the hot coffee and the milk-punch. Suppose 
we sleep and dream of pleasant things. Surely 
there must be some common sense in the 
family, though no one would suppose so judg- 
ing from what has happened to-day.” 

“ You think you are right, Marion ? ” 

“ I couldn’t have done differently.” 

“ You see, dear child, you are just as deter- 
mined in your way as your father is in his.” 

“ Every bit ! I have more at. stake.” 

“ I don’t see what you can do.” 

“ Have patience, I suppose. When matters 
come to a climax, something must happen. 
Good-night. I am going to try to sleep. Did 
pa eat any supper ? ” 

“ Ho ; he was too excited.” 

“ Poor pa ! I am becoming a constant care 
to him, and all for no reason whatever. Good- 
night, auntie. Cheer up, and there is a kiss 
for all I have cost you to-day.” 


SEPARATION 223 

You dear girl ! You know I want you to 
be happy.” 

Mrs. Aston found Reggy lying in the moon- 
light, and while closing the blinds a shadow in 
the road attracted her. It was that of Cortis, 
who was slowly passing the gate as if on 
guard. A few minutes afterwards she was in 
a profound, refreshing sleep. 


CHAPTEK XYII 

Dueijs^g his drive to the station Mr. Barrett 
was wholly absorbed in his own plans for gain- 
ing his desires. He was not aware of any in- 
fluence proceeding from atmospheric causes. 
He had hired a buggy, and he was quite alive 
to the fact that his driver was intoxicated. 
Overwrought as he was, he mechanically 
watched the movements of the man who 
might be supposed to be responsible for the 
safety of both. At intervals the man’s head 
fell forward, and then the reins would dangle 
at the horse’s sides. Again the head would 
rise with a jerk, its owner would open his dull 
eyes, fix them on Mr. Barrett, mutter strange 
sentences redundant with curses, gather up the 
reins and steady his shoulders against the back 
of the seat. The horse, setting an example of 

sobriety and proper attention to business, 
224 


SEPARATION 225 

trotted along the level road, proof against the 
alluring tufts of dewy grass and the rivulets 
singing and sparkling on either side. It might 
be urged that the driver was comparatively 
young, while the horse had long since reached 
years of discretion. 

At times Mr. Barrett was tempted to grasp 
the lines ; but, on reflecting, he concluded that 
the situation, if new to him, was perfectly 
familiar to the sagacious animal in front, and 
so he took up his own problems and left the 
horse and its driver to solve theirs. 

The night was a sermon on peace. The 
moon shone lovingly alike on tiny wild flow- 
ers and forest trees, on grassy meadows and 
steep rocky hillsides, on the fallows and the 
flelds of bending grain. Mr. Barrett saw 
nothing of the beauty about him. His world 
was turning on his petted schemes ; he did not 
want to miss his train. 

“ See here. Jack — Jim — whatever your name 
is. Have we time to make it ? ” 

“ Lots of it — lots. Git !.” 


226 


SEPARATION 


This was encouraging, and the final growl 
excited the considerate horse to increase its 
efforts. A dilapidated wooden structure, con- 
sisting of a barroom within, and without a 
great trough of running water, was now 
reached. The horse stopped and refreshed 
itself ; the driver extricated his limbs from the 
wagon, and to Mr. Barrett’s wonder and hor- 
ror disappeared in the barroom. Mr. Bar- 
rett’s eyes rested on the legend, “Half-way 
House,” and on numerous hanging signs with 
illustrations of beer kegs and goats rampant. 
It did not occur to him to time the halt ; it 
felt like hours. He was about calling 
“House!” angrily when the thirsty Jack 
slowly emerged from this luxurious retreat, 
and with methodical deliberation regained 
both seat and reins. This feat accomplished, 
he roused himself to the demands of the hour, 
and Mr. Barrett found himself at the station 
some minutes before the train was due. He 
walked up and down the platform, again ab- 
sorbed and indifferent to his surroundings. 


SEPARATION 


227 


There was nothing of interest sufficient to win 
his attention. No doubt, the steady old horse 
would take care of its driver as usual and re- 
turn him in time to the stable. The animal 
needed and deserved rest. Mr. Barrett ig- 
nored his fellow-waiters in the moonlight. 
He was commencing to feel hungry ; but’ at 
that hour, in that place, supper was a thing of 
the past. People were looking forward to 
breakfast. Two Germans, loudly discussing 
in broken English their object in going to 
New York, were very annoying to Mr. Bar- 
rett. He wished they would patronize their 
mother tongue, but such a possibility did not 
seem to occur to them. A young woman in a 
starched .cotton dress, that rustled as she 
walked, was soothing an infant lost to sight in 
the folds of her blanket shawl. She was 
watched over by a tall, anxious-looking man, 
carrying numerous bags and bundles. To 
escape the multiplication of irritating sounds, 
Mr. Barrett left the platform and betook him- 
self to the graveled paths beyond. He again 


228 


SEPARATION 


concentrated his thoughts on his bitter disap- 
pointment and the surest remedy for it. 

The rumbling of the train only caused a 
slight break in his meditations. He seated 
himself comfortably in a palace car, not car- 
ing to woo slumber, and coolly arranged his 
future line of action. His business engage- 
ment for the afternoon could be quickly con- 
cluded. Then he would bend all his energies 
towards carrying out his schemes for keeping 
possession of his daughter. He recalled his 
interviews with her, with Cortis, and Mrs. 
Bemerton. He could not account for Cortis 
being in the same town. He would not ac- 
cept the idea that no trickery had been prac- 
tised upon him. Again his anger was kindled 
against his sister. She should have informed 
him at once of the man’s proximity. It 
seemed incredible that circumstances should 
have thus combined to delay his project. He 
had provided for every known contingency, 
taken every legal precaution, availed himself 
of every legal right, spared no expense, and 


SEPARATION 


229 


while congratulating himself . upon his wisdom 
and success, he was simply the dupe of chance. 
He knew people who insisted that there was 
no such factor in life as chance. Could that 
be so ? Pshaw ! he had no time for such co- 
nundrums. He was not going to be thwarted 
nor opposed. In his whole business career he 
had never hesitated because of obstacles. He 
had never accepted defeat. He was a fighter 
when there was a possibility of loss, and an 
acknowledged victor in many a desperate 
struggle. What would his wife think of him 
were he to go home to her with the informa- 
tion that he had given up his cherished scheme ; 
that their labor for two years was practically 
in vain ; that a girl’s silly scruples had over- 
come his experienced judgment ? What would 
his immediate circle of friends say if he 
should, at the eleventh hour, stultify himself 
for their entertainment? Was he, at his age, 
going to submit to ridicule? Was he, with 
his wealth and his influence, to be bearded by 
a self-sufficient young man, who had married 


SEPARATION 


230 

thoughtlessly and proved incapable of properly 
supporting a wife ? Impossible ! He would 
carry out his plans, come what might. He 
was right — no one could dispute the justness 
of his claim to his own child. He would up- 
hold it through 

A sudden jerk electrified Mr. Barrett. He 
vainly grasped the smooth, upholstered arm of 
his chair. The car was off the track. A suc- 
cession of jolts and bumps, accompanied by in- 
describable noises, ensued. Would they never 
cease? would the motion never stop? Mr. 
Barrett found himself seized by invisible forces, 
and, in spite of the most desperate struggles to 
keep his seat, he was raised into space, and, at 
the final bump, he was deposited, face down- 
ward, upon the floor of the car. He could not 
tell how long he lay there. The silence was 
as strange and awful as were the sounds that 
had preceded it. He moved cautiously and 
sat up ; he felt as if his hair was on end, his 
blood was surging through his veins, he could 
hear his heart thumping. He seemed to be 


SEPARATION 231 

alone in the world. He rose with the aid of 
the arm of the seat, and stood shaking like one 
with ague. Then he sank on the seat, helpless 
as a baby. He could not control his back- 
bone. The car was on a slant. Mr. Barrett 
gazed at the heavy door and windows. How 
to escape ? He had no implement that would 
break the thick glass ; he attempted to reach 
the door, and found it an effort to stand or 
walk. He forgot the very existence of the 
other occupants of the car ; the wild longing 
to get out of it was his sole sensation. He saw 
the fields in the moonlight ; to rush to the open 
space, where the danger could at least be an- 
ticipated, seemed the one sweet object of life. 
He finally grasped the knob and madly pulled 
and shook it, but, owing to the angle at which 
the car had settled, he could not move the door. 
His strength was useless. What would happen 
next ?. He was caged. What if the next train 
should come crashing into the wreck ? What 
if the cars should take fire ? He gazed about 
him. The lamps had been extinguished ; a few 


SEPARATION 


232 

figures were visible moving about in the dim 
light. The horror of the situation was over- 
powering. Where thought was possible, self 
absorbed it. Action was as yet impossible; 
the shock had unnerved all who were subjected 
to it. Seconds were hours in duration. Would 
no help come ? Must they remain, like beasts, 
at the mercy of new dangers ? All this time 
not a human sound had broken the stillness. 
Even tongues were paralyzed. 

Suddenly a woman’s light, penetrating voice 
reached every ear in the car : 

“ This is my sixth accident. I wonder if any 
one is hurt. Can’t we go and find out ? ” 

“Yes — if we can manage one of these 
devilish doors,” was the answer, in a deep 
bass. 

“ Or break a window. I have a button-hook, 
and you have a corkscrew,” suggested the 
woman’s voice. 

A burst of merriment welcomed this propo- 
sition. 

“ That’s good ! ” from the bass. “ Who are 


SEPARATION 


233 

you? Come and help with this confounded 
door.” 

Mr. Barrett was now conscious that a forlorn 
hope had attacked the farther door, and almost 
at the same moment, three men appeared on 
the platform near him, and, after combined 
and determined efforts, effected an entrance. 
In swept the fresh air and the sense of freedom, 
of safety from unforeseen terrors — from sud- 
den, agonizing death ! Some one assisted Mr, 
Barrett to the roadside. He sat down on a 
bank of loose earth and gravel and gazed at 
the novel scene like one in a dream. Men, 
women, and children, all talking, were wan- 
dering to and fro, examining the wreck. The 
damaged cars stood at angles along the road ; 
some had swung to the up track, others were 
inclined on the edge of a ravine, through which 
ran a quiet stream. The baggage car was on 
its side, and in the dim distance the engine was 
visible, still on the track. 

Several men accosted Mr. Barrett, all eager 
and excited. 


234 


SEPARATION 


“ I^Tarrow escape, I tell you,” said one. “ If 
the engine hadn’t broken loose in the nick of 
time, we would have been all in the river.” 

“ How do you feel ? ” asked another, cor- 
dially. 

I feel shaken up,” said Mr. Barrett. “ ISToth- 
ing worse.” 

“ Take my arm and walk around,” suggested 
a third. “ The cars are worth looking at.” 

Mr. Barrett accepted the stranger’s aid, and, 
to his own surprise, found himself mingling in 
the small groups, listening to the different in- 
cidents and experiences, and feeling interested 
in the welfare of his fellow-passengers. 

“ What happened, anyhow ? ” asked a stout 
man, who had returned to his car for his valise 
and was now producing from it a flask of 
brandy. 

“You’ll never know,” said one of his listen- 
ers, conclusively. 

“ Are the officials doing anything for our 
comfort ? ” asked a quiet-looking Englishman, 
who, with several ladies in the party, was vis- 


SEPARATION 235 

iting the U nited States for the first time. “We 
can’t possibly stay here all night.” He spoke 
with the deliberation that excites a thrill of 
hope in the listeners. 

“ I fear we will,” said the stout man, glancing 
from him to the amused group. “They’ve 
sent a man on foot to the next station, and 
there he’ll telegraph for a relief train ; but no 
one can guess when that*will come. We’ll 
have to make the best of it. Just to think that 
no one was hurt, not even to the extent of a 
pin scratch, and every car is badly broken up. 
I’ll bet two to one such a thing couldn’t hap- 
pen again ! ” 

He moved away to find a vessel for water, 
so that he could impartially serve out the 
brandy, and Mr. Barrett now observed the lit- 
tle family that he had ignored when waiting 
for the train. He inquired eagerly for the in- 
fant’s health, and noting the blanched features 
of the young mother, he hurried after the stout 
man, procured some brandy for her, and suc- 
ceeded in getting her a piece of cake from the 


236 SEPARATION 

lady who still detailed the incidents of six ac- 
cidents. 

A young French priest, displaying a rosary, 
was anxious to hold a thanksgiving service in 
the open air. So in the nearest field, his fel- 
low-passengers gathered around him, and lis- 
tened to his simple, fervent sentences of praise 
and worship, for the mercy that had just saved 
them from suddeii death. His voice was at 
times tremulous and husky, but he spoke fiu- 
ently, and his slight accent gave emphasis to 
his words. 

Thus, on the roadside, with the moon read- 
ing their earnest faces, men and women of 
many creeds and nationalities, drawn by a com- 
mon impulse, realized the Love that had watched 
over them that night, and acknowledged with 
humility their own weakness. Some hours 
afterwards, when the relief train came rumbling 
towards the wreck, a merry party boarded the 
cars and filled the seats, anxious to continue 
conversations commenced while as strangers 
they wandered about the scene of the accident. 


SEPARATION 


237 

The danger past, home in prospect, the re- 
action set in. Spirits rose in exultation. The 
train whizzed past everything as if informed 
by the feelings of humanity. The hubbub was 
continuous and of a polyglot character. Mr. 
Barrett, feeling very weak and nervous, lis- 
tened to his neighbor’s impressions of the acci- 
dent. 

“ You Americans astonish me,” said the Eng- 
lishman, calmly and dispassionately. “You 
confide your lives to these reckless, irresponsi- 
ble corporations, without the least hesitation.” 

“ That is so,” Mr. Barrett assented. 

“And the charges are enormous. You en- 
rich them, you trust them, and you have no 
guarantee of safety.” 

“None whatever. You’ll see notices at all 
the stations, cautioning us to insure our lives 
before taking our tickets. Forewarned is fore- 
armed, you know.” 

“ True ; but does a sum of money pay for 
loss of life or limbs ? ” 

“ I’m afraid the majority of us are inclined 


SEPARATION 


238 

f 

to put a money value upon everything,” Mr. 
Barrett said thoughtfully. 

“Dear me! gold would never compensate 
me for mine.” 

“ It might help to support your family, if 
you were killed or injured. That is our prac- 
tical view of it. We realize our risks.” 

“ And you see no prospect of redressing this 
injustice ? ” 

“ Oh, no one has time. It would be impos- 
sible to fix the blame on the person in fault.” 

“ It is unpremeditated murder, so the mur- 
derers go free.” 

“Yes, and the horrors follow so rapidly, 
that the last only is thought of.” 

The Englishman was explaining this view of 
the subject to his party when the depot was 
reached. There was a general uprising, fol- 
lowed by expressions of delight, much hand- 
shaking and interchange of cards and fare- 
wells. In the waiting-room were anxious 
friends, and smiles and kisses were given 
through happy tears. Mr. Barrett was over- 


SEPARATION 


239 

joyed to find himself in a cab, and hear the 
music of the wheels rattling through the dear, 
dirty old streets towards his home. Dawn was 
bringing into relief the beauties and the ugli- 
nesses of the great city. Great God, how he 
loved it ! How near he had been to never see- 
ing it again ! In all his life he had never been 
so close to death. He leaned forward with 
eager glistening eyes. A passer-by would 
have taken him for a curious stranger. Yes, 
there was the City Hall with all its associa- 
tions; the clock was like the face of an old 
trusted friend. There rose the post-office ; 
what a wonderful comfort it was ! He had a 
glance and a pleasant thought for every land- 
mark that he passed. 

He was half-way home when it suddenly 
occurred to him that his arrival at such an 
hour would rouse and alarm the household. 
He stopped at a hotel, was shown to a pleasant 
room, and having swallowed some light re- 
freshment, went comfortably to bed ; but not 
to sleep, although he craved the rest of uncon- 


240 


SEPARATION 


sciousness. If he closed his eyes, he had a 
vision of a landscape by moonlight, a railroad 
track, scattered cars, and figures moving about 
the scene of the wreck. When he opened his 
eyes imagination seized his excited nerves. 
He saw himself lying dead on the roadside ; 
he followed out the consequences of his death 
under such circumstances. He considered his 
daughter’s position. He thought of his busi- 
ness, and the incompetency of the men who 
would have had to settle up his innumerable 
affairs with possibly unavoidable losses. The 
contemplation of these matters made him feel 
very weak and humble. 

Was he the same man who within twenty- 
four hours had left the city, strong in health, 
proud of his wealth and influence, convinced 
of his own wisdom, determined to carry out 
his own schemes? Yes and no. His utter 
dependence had been suddenly and mercifully 
revealed to him. Even now, when his imagi- 
nation controlled his reason, he trembled from 
head to foot, the cold perspiration started on 


SEPARATION 


241 


his forehead, he grew sick with dread. Mem- 
ory began its work. He was again by the 
river with his daughter, resisting her gentle 
pleading. He was on the frail bridge with 
Cortis, opposing with bitter scorn the younger 
man’s arguments. He was watching Reggy’s 
wonderful smile, which unconsciously won his 
affection. He was parting from his daughter 
with a wicked threat upon his lips. What if 
— ^if — he quailed before the thought, he thrilled 
with horror. He could feel her arms about 
his neck, her sweet kisses on his cheek. He 
recalled her words. “ Daddy, if you love me, 
you will let me do right.” 

If he loved her I Good God! if he could 
but hold her once more in his arms, would he 
refuse her anything? Why had he been so 
hard, so severe with her ? Could it be that he 
was wrong ? This idea was so novel, that Mr. 
Barrett tried to put it from him, but in vain. 
It would be heresy to doubt his own wisdom. 
He struggled with his doubt, for it shook the 
very foundations of his faith in himself. It 


242 


SEPARATION 


suggested to him the lesson of the night. His 
thoughts had been wholly selfish ; his passions 
had consumed him. He had sat in judgment 
upon others and had condemned them, with- 
out showing them any consideration, or ex- 
hibiting the slightest feeling for them. While 
thus secure in his stronghold, immovable, in- 
vulnerable, suddenly and in mercy the love of 
God had been revealed to him. This knowl- 
edge was overwhelming. Its truth took pos- 
session of him. Pride whispered that God 
approved his severity, and sustained him in it ; 
but conscience told him that his thoughts had 
never for a moment wandered to his Maker. 
He had not invoked Divine help ; no man asks 
a blessing on the actions that proceed from 
injustice and dislike. 


CHAPTEE XYIII 


“ I WONDER if yesterday was all a dream, 
auntie ? Everything came so unexpectedly, 
and then, daddy’s disappearance. Dear me ! 
What an exquisite morning it is ! ” 

“Yes — lovely! I suppose Dr. Carey will 
soon arrive with some roses. What are you 
going to do, Marion ? ” 

“ I’d like to charter a balloon.” 

Mrs. Aston was standing on the porch. 
Mrs. Bemerton was brushing up some pebbles 
which Eeggy had scattered over the floor. 

“ Yes — a balloon would be just the way out 
of it all. I don’t know whether to collapse, or 
try to reason that things are happening for 
the best.” 

“ You must believe it without a doubt, auntie. 
I think I’ll take Eeggy in his wagon and stroll 
up the road to the woods. I can think better 
243 


when I am away from the house and by my- 
self.” 

“That would be sensible. You will avoid 
callers ; and perhaps, as strange things are in 
order, something agreeable will happen.” 

“And you won’t grow alarmed if I stay 
away for a few hours ? ” 

“ Why, no ; if I know where you are, I feel 
satisfied.” 

“ I love the pines ; they rest me, auntie.” 

“Yes, dear, I can understand. You will 
take some crackers for Reggy and put on a 
flannel dress. Then I won’t feel anxious about 
either of you.” 

“ You dear considerate auntie ! ” Mrs. Aston 
kissed Mrs. Bemerton and gave her a bewilder- 
ing, encouraging glance. 

“It is an exhausting way to enjoy life, 
auntie. I wonder if I am worth so much care 
and anxiety.” 

“Marion! You mustn’t talk like that. 
What Avould we do without you? You are 
not strong this mo^'ning. Perhaps it would be 


SEPARATION 


HS 

wiser to stay at home. You need not meet 
any one.” 

“ Oh, but that would only increase the awk- 
wardness. To be out is customary ; and then 
the air will refresh me.” 

The road was cut through the woods, and 
shaded by arching branches. Rivulets mur- 
mured in the thick undergrowth, the air was 
fragrant from the dewy wild flowers. Ferns 
unrolled in the shadows of the forest trees. 
Mrs. Aston walked slowly, talking to Reggy, 
and stopping often to gather cones or blossoms 
for him, or to point out a bird perched on a 
twig, or a bright-eyed squirrel inspecting them 
from his rocky refuge. Reggy’s pantomimic 
delight in the beautiful, his musical syllables 
and appreciative smiles were charming. He 
sat enthroned in his wagon, crowned with an 
oak wreath, his dimpled hands filled with his 
treasures, a laughing wood-sprite, an embodi- 
ment of health and happiness. 

The clearing was a pretty retreat. Reggy 
loved to go to it. Felled trees, overgrown 


SEPARAXrON 


246 

with mosses, made comfortable seats; the 
ground was soft with grasses and pine needles, 
spicy odors were wafted on the summer 
breeze ; overhead was the blue of June, with 
here and there a feathery cloud to modify the 
glare. Mrs. Aston spread a shawl, sat down 
with a sigh of relief, and placing Eeggy beside 
her, with all his trophies, gave herself up to 
the influences of the place. 

How peaceful it was! How wonderfully 
restful ! This was an opportunity to meditate 
seriously upon her position and its duties. 
Somehow, thought mocked her. She was too 
tired or too sleepy, or perhaps too happy, to 
concentrate her mind on grave questions. She 
found herself laughing with Heggy, playing 
with him ; for the moment, she, too, was a baby. 

He took off her hat, dressed her hair with 
daisies, and sat wisely regarding her. Then 
he stretched his little head and kissed her. 
His voluntary caresses were her. greatest re- 
wards. Everything seemed possible when his 
lips thus touched hers. 


SEPARATION 


247 

“Reggy, say something for mamma,” she 
murmured, holding him close to her and watch- 
ing his mouth. “ Say ‘ papa.’ ” 

But Reggy smiled serenely, and again kissed 
her, and so met all her laughing entreaties to 
form the strange sounds. Then she lavished 
upon him endearing epithets and kisses, but in 
vain. He only gazed at her, wide-eyed and 
wondering. 

Then he slowly ate his crackers and drank 
milk, and sleepily shut his pretty eyes. So 
she lulled him in her arms, and arranged a 
little bed for him in the shadows of the pines. 
A sense of peace stole over her as she sat 
guarding him. Presently she began to doze 
and nod, and, yielding to the agreeable sensa- 
tion, she rested her head on the nearest trunk, 
and forgot everything. 

Reggy ’s arms suddenly clasping her throat 
awakened her. The child was watching Cortis, 
who approached rapidly. As she stood up, 
Mrs. Aston noticed that the air was chilly and 
damp, while darkness was momently increasing. 


SEPARATION 


248 

‘‘You haven’t a second to lose. Hurry 
ahead of me. I’ll bring the wagon,” said 
Cortis, reaching her side. He took Reggy on 
his arm, threw the shawl into the wagon, and 
shoving it ahead, commenced a hasty retreat 
from the woods. Mrs. Aston did precisely as 
she was directed, fully realizing the danger of 
the situation. Neither spoke as they hurried 
along the narrow road. The sky was black 
where it was visible above the thick foliage 
of the interlacing branches ; the rushing 
of the wind through the forest sounded 
like strange, unearthly music, harmonizing 
* with the swaying of the lighter limbs and 
the rustling of the leaves. Vivid flashes 
illuminating the path, and the vibrations of 
the thunder, added to the weird effects of the 
scene. 

Reggy seemed to enjoy the haste and the 
novelty of his position. He put his arm 
around Cortis’s neck, and fixed his gaze on 
the motions of his wagon, which were so 
entertaining that now and then he laughed 


SEPARATION 


* 

249 

out gleefully, and bent to see if bis bearer 
also enjoyed them. 

The wood-road was left behind; the rain 
was commencing. Cortis covered Reggy with 
the shawl, put him in the wagon, and again 
hurried forward. As he neared his own gates 
the clouds seemed to break into water-spouts. 
He glanced quickly at Mrs. Aston, who was 
looking white and breathless, and without 
hesitation turned the wagon into the lawn, 
wheeled it up on the porch and through the 
open door into the hallway. Mrs. Aston fol- 
lowed. The doors, as usual, stood wide open, 
and in the sitting-room was Dr. Carey, read- 
ing. He rose, attracted by the odd sounds, 
and smiled with pleasure as he congratulated 
the gasping newcomers on their escape from 
the storm. Cortis now turned to close the 
front doors and windows ; the rain was beat- 
ing against the house as if it had a personal 
grudge to satisfy. Mrs. Summers could be 
heard up-stairs shutting it out. 

Mrs. Aston recovered breath, forced some 


250 


SEPARATION 


composure, and, taking Reggy on her lap, 
faced the situation. 

“This cannot last very long,” she said to 
Dr. Carey. 

“ I am not willing to commit myself,” he 
said laughingly. “These storms are rare, 
but decidedly real. Fortunately we can 
enjoy it. Have you ever watched one of 
them ? ” 

“Ho; I didn’t realize that they could 
gather so quickly.” 

“ Oh, if you care to study such things you 
will have plenty of opportunities before the 
summer is over. Get in an upper room, and 
just notice the sky. The play of the lightning 
is grand.” 

“You must think me courageous.” 

“I do. You have just been exposed to the 
danger.” 

“Yes, indeed.” 

“ If you will stand by this window you will 
gain some idea of the force of the storm. The 
road is turning into a stream.” 


SEPARATION 


251. 

Mrs. Aston silently contemplated the rush- 
ing rain. 

“ Auntie will be crazy,” she said, suddenly. 

Cortis appeared at a door opening into an 
adjoining room, speaking quietly : 

“Watkins has gone home, and he promised 
to tell your aunt of your safety.” 

“ Oh, how good of you ! how thoughtful I ” 

“ Watkins will have a chance to swim,” said 
Dr. Carey, noticing that Cortis was occupied 
in the other room and had not apparently 
heard Mrs. Aston’s words. She was growing 
familiar with the surroundings — the forms of 
the chairs, the pattern of the wall-paper, the 
soft tints of the rugs. Reggy trotted about, 
and finally ventured into the next room, 
where he stood, evidently interested in what 
was taking place there. 

“Cortis has transformed this place,” said 
Carey, warmly. “You would not recognize 
it. Now that he is able to use his eyes for a 
few minutes at a time, he is beautifying the 
dining-room. His plans are here in this port- 


252 


SEPARATION 


folio. Wouldn’t you like to see them?” She 
assented. Carey opened the dark-red Russia 
case, and turned over the sheets of paper, ex- 
plaining as he carefully handled them. “I 
think the colors are very nice, so delicate and 
soft. This is the fireplace. Pie is really too 
ambitious. Imagine such a charming retreat 
on a winter’s evening. You can see the logs 
blazing and feel the delicious warmth. He 
says he will make these corner seats himself ; 
they are to be cushioned in leather. You 
can’t realize how all this pleases me. I feel 
that he is going to stay among us. I did 
think that he would leave here the moment I 
gave him permission, but now I have an im- 
pression that he will make this his permanent 
home.” 

‘‘ Could he leave now ? ” 

“ Oh, yes. He has to be prudent, but his 
eyes will be strong again ; I think, perfectly 
so. He has proved a conscientious patient. 
Look at the sideboard. Doesn’t that suggest 
home and hospitality ? ” 


SEPARATION 


253 ' 


‘‘ Yes.” 

Mrs. Aston bent over the drawings, examin- 
ing them with much interest, but her silence 
was puzzling. Her lack of color might be the 
result of what had happened on the previous 
day, and her white flannel dress increased the 
effect of her appearance. Her eyes were 
dreamy, inscrutable when they met Carey’s. 
She looked at him and heard his voice ; but 
she was keeping up a second, most absorbing, 
mental process. Dr. Carey became mystified. 
Certain mysterious influences were at work, 
yet nothing could be simpler than the expla- 
nation of Mrs. Aston’s presence in Cortis’s 
house. Hor could he detect the slightest em- 
barrassment in her manner. She was in a 
revery. Cortis, too, had left them to enter- 
tain each other, but his absence was soon ac- 
counted for. They heard his voice : “ Peggy, 
bring mamma to lunch.” 

The child appeared in a few seconds, carry- 
ing a crimson rose which he offered his 
mother. Cortis now entered ; Mrs. Aston 


SEPARATION 


254 

had risen, she was fastening the rose at her 
throat, her cheeks we^re rivalling it. 

The dining-room was bright with candles ; 
there was a profusion of roses, red, yellow, 
white, and pink, gracefully arranged in non- 
descript receptacles. A high-chair had been 
improvised for Reggy, and the table being a 
round one, every one had the head. Mrs. 
Summers’s thin face was wreathed in smiles. 
Here was a lunch party ; and then, the guests ! 
She felt that she would have something worth 
telling on her next round of visits. 

The tempting viands were appreciated. 
Every one ate with a relish ; Dr. Carey fur- 
nishing pleasant topics for the friction of 
thought and the consequent brilliant speeches. 
Eeggy deported himself as if lunch parties 
were an every-day experience; eating and 
listening with charming gravity. Mrs. Aston 
had shaken off her abstraction and entered 
into the spirit of the present. The harlequin 
style of the dishes afforded full scope for mer- 
riment. Cortis laughed at this severe tax on 


SEPARATION 255 

the resources of his bachelor establishment, 
but all agreed that the scarcity was on the' 
right side. The lamb chops were juicy and 
tender, the omelet delicious. The peas had 
been growing, within a few hours, the straw- 
berries had been rescued in time from the 
patch in a sunny corner of the old garden. 

Mrs. Aston poured the coffee, and they 
lingered over it, discussing the old problem — 
town or country ? 

‘‘ It is a question of income with me,” said 
Dr. Carey. “ I love the country.” 

‘‘ I could do better here than there if I were 
able to go on with my work,” said Cortis, as 
he slowly turned his empty cup. “ The ex- 
penses here are so much lighter. I fancy that 
once I am busy again, I shall stay in town 
precisely as long as it requires to transact my 
business.” 

“ That will be a sensible method to adopt,” 
said Carey. “You will escape the city dust 
and have the advantage of purer air.” 

“ Yes ; and get away from the pressure of 


SEPARATION 


256 

the artificial existence, the wear and tear of 
heartless observances, the endless petty annoy- 
ances that eat away vitality. Here I feel my- 
self on top of the world ; there I have it on 
my shoulders.” 

Dr. Carey laughed merrily : 

“ So you do not regret the exile to which I 
condemned you ? ” 

“ On the contrary, I am deep in a debt of 
gratitude to you.” 

“You see, you are a general benefactor,” 
said Mrs. Aston, taking Cortis’s cup and fill- 
ing it. 

“You quite overrate my humble services,” 
Dr. Carey said, offering her his cup, and 
glancing at Reggy’s nodding head. 

“I must put my baby to sleep; his eyes 
won’t stay open for him any longer.” 

She handed Dr. Carey his coffee, and, rising, 
took Reggy in her arms. 

“ Perhaps you had better put him conforta- 
bly in bed. Mrs. Summers will carry him up- 
stairs,” Cortis suggested. 


SEPARATION 


257 


‘‘Yery well.” 

Mrs. Aston put Reggy in Mrs. Summers’s 
arms, and followed her from the room. The 
rain still beat against the house, gusts of wind 
shook the casements. Mrs. Summers led the 
way into a large room on the upper floor. It 
was evidently kept sacred to the possible 
guest, not a sign of occupation was visible. 
Mrs. Aston put Reggy in the middle of the 
great bedstead, darkened the windows, and 
gladly took possession of a rocking-chair. 


CHAPTER XIX 


Again Mrs. Aston tried to reflect, but the 
most trifling incident attracted her, the pres- 
ent circumstances proved too fascinating. She 
could hear the voices in the dining-room ; the 
sound and its associations were agreeable. A 
faint odor of tobacco was positively enjoyable. 
She found herself idly contemplating the im- 
provements that could be made in the room 
she occupied. She watched the tops of the 
trees tossing in the wind and flinging the rain 
against the panes. She looked at Reggy. 
His arms were extended, his lips were smiling, 
he evidently intended to sleep on indefinitely. 
She put her head on a pillow which she had 
placed at the side of the bed, and seated thus 
in the low chair, she gave herself up to the 
delightful sense of peace which pervaded the 
house. She indulged in waking dreams of a 

future swayed by love. 

258 


SEPARATION 


259 

The room was suddenly filled with light. 
Reggy sat up and gazed about him. The 
clouds had moved to the east, and on the dark 
gray background was arched a vivid rainbow. 
When she went down-stairs, the men were on 
the porch; the birds were inspecting their 
damaged nests, the flowers were raising their 
petals from the earth, the sun was setting in 
golden glory ; the bees and butterflies were 
rejoicing in their freedom, the stones in the 
road were losing all signs of the storm, the 
balsam-laden air was like a sweet, refreshing 
beverage. 

‘‘ Isn’t this wonderful ? ” said Carey, as she 
appeared in the doorway. “The rapidity of 
the change always surprises me, although I 
have seen it all my life.” 

“ You enjoy the repetition of a pleasure,” 
said Cortis. 

“Yes, with as much delight and gratifica- 
tion as if this was my first experience.” 

“ I suppose the mail came in as usual,” said 
Mrs. Aston. “ Reggy and I must hurry home 


26 o separation 

and see if there is a letter for us from 
grandpa.” 

“I thought his grandpa was here,” said 
Carey, with a quick glance from Mrs. Aston 
to Cortis. 

“No ; pa left here last night by the express. 
It is just possible that he wrote a few lines on 
reaching town.” 

Mrs. Aston was looking at Carey. Cortis 
stepped behind her and gave Carey a warn- 
ing glance; then he brought out Reggy’s 
wagon. 

Carey grew thoughtful : 

“ I wouldn’t be too sure of a letter, Mrs. 
Aston. The mail has undoubtedly been de- 
layed ; no driver would start in such a storm. 
You are very much disappointed. I’ll go 
down to the post-office and see what are the 
prospects.” 

“Just wait one minute, and we will be 
ready to start.” 

Mrs. Aston held Reggy towards Cortis. 
“ Kiss Mr. Cortis, and thank him for the nice 


SEPARATION 261 

time you have had.” She laughed. “ Eeggy’s 
thanks must be taken for granted.” 

Cortis gravely received the caress, and ta- 
king the child from her arms seated him in the 
wagon and arranged the strap. Carey had 
wheeled the wagon several yards from the 
gate, when Cortis called him back. 

“ Carey, if there should be a telegram, warn 
Mrs. Bemerton to open it. You under- 
stand.” 

“Yes; but I think the reports were cor- 
rect.” 

“ You can’t feel sure.” 

Carey rejoined Mrs. Aston, who had slowly 
proceeded towards home. 

“If there should be no letters for you, I 
shall run up to the house and see if I have 
any. I expected to go back this morning ; but, 
if nothing special has occurred, I shall stay 
here over to-morrow.” 

“Why, yes; to-day w^as rather a failure. 
You might as well have been in town.” Of 
what was she thinking ? Her eyes were 


262 


SEPARATION 


dreamy, her voice perfectly sincere. Having 
reached the gate, she turned to him eagerly : 
“ I hope you will find a letter for me.” 

“I am very anxious to succeed,” he said, 
meeting her glance, which was still abstracted. 

“ Hear, dear ! such a day ! ” cried Mrs. Be- 
merton, as Carey turned away. “ What have 
you been doing ? ” 

“Everything that I ought not to have done, 
auntie ; but I was the sport of circumstances.” 
Her voice was exultant. 

“ Well, you look very happy ; but what will 
your father say ? ” 

“ He could not say anything.” 

“ How do you mean ? ” 

“I mean more than I can explain. I am 
going to dress, because Hr. Carey may come 
back directly. Hoesn’t Reggy look well? 
We all spent the day together.” 

“ Oh, Hr. Carey was there ? ” 

“ Yes ; all the time.” 

Mrs. Bemerton looked relieved, and allowed 
a smile to soften her features. Her niece 


SEPARATION 263 

hugged her, laughing : “ This is the last time 

you will undertake such a charge.” 

“ You see, dear, I was alone, and I could not 
but worry.” 

Mrs. Aston grew sympathetic. 

“ I thought of you, auntie — of everything,” 
she whispered. “ I feel very, very happy.” 

She ran up-stairs ; Mrs. Bemerton could 
hear her singing, and judged that she was 
spending more thought than usual on her ap- 
pearance. This was a good sign. Mrs. Be- 
merton resigned herself to comfort and an 
easy-chair on the porch. These pleasant mo- 
ments were her daily rewards. She could 
hear the nurse softly laughing with Beggy ; 
the domestic details were all under satisfac- 
tory headway. Her brother caused her only 
anxiety. Presently Mrs. Aston came out, and 
stood in the strange illumination of the after- 
glow. She had put on a dinner dress of white 
crape; her neck and arms were shaded with 
lace, and lustrous pearls proved becoming 
ornaments. 


264 


SEPARATION 


“ He has not come ? ” she said, in a tone of 
extreme disappointment, 

“ Ho. Shall we wait dinner ? ” 

“ I think not. He has had time to be here. 
Daddy hasn’t written.” 

Oh, you expected a letter ! ” 

“ Yes, I did.” 

“Well, I didn’t. It will take Richard 
several days to cool. Besides, he had 
said everything. What could he have to 
write ? ” 

“I don’t know.” 

“ That’s a pretty rose. Where did you get 
it?” 

“ Reggy gave it to me at lunch-time. We 
might as well have dinner, I suppose.” 

“Yes. You mustn’t expect to have every- 
thing on springs.” 

Mrs. Aston put her arm around her aunt : 

“Come, I’ll take you in to dinner, and I 
think everything is very nice as it is. I didn’t 
intend to grumble.” 

“Well, you ought to understand your father 


SEPARATION 265 

by this time. He does things thoroughly, but 
he will have his own way.” 

“ He’s a dear good daddy, anyhow.” 

“ Of course, Marion. How, eat your dinner, 
optimistically. I don’t object to men getting 
angry if that does them any benefit, but I do 
most decidedly object to having my nerves up- 
set and my meals spoiled for me.” 

“ I had an optimistic lunch, auntie. W e did 
enjoy it hugely.” 

“Ho doubt. Dr. Carey is taking tea at home, 
Marion.” 

“ I suppose he found letters.” 

The minutes passed slowly, Mrs. Aston 
thought, but the twilight faded and the stars 
came out as usual, and she sat in the porch 
and pondered the incidents that made the day 
seem so long. She felt very strong and bright, 
her mind was active, her senses were on the 
alert. Oh, to have been healthily tired and 
sleepy ! A popular air, sharply and incor- 
rectly whistled, broke the magic of the still- 
ness, A little I^d in a cotton waist, a broken 


266 


SEPARATION 


straw hat, and patched knickerbockers was 
coming up the lane. He was the well-known 
distributor of telegrams, and Mrs. Aston 
reached the gate before him. 

“ It doesn’t want an answer,” he remarked, 
putting the yellow envelope in her hand 
and turning away as if time to him meant 
money. 

The next minute she was reading the mes- 
sage under the hall lamp. It was dated that 
day in Hew York. 

Mrs. M. Asto]^ : 

Arrived home. I release you both from all 
promises. Do as you think best. All well. 

R. Barrett. 

A mist blinded her ; she read it again and 
again. Could she be dreaming ? She sat 
down on the stairs, smoothed the paper on her 
knees, and slowly examined each word. Then 
she gazed about her. Yes, she was awake, in 
full possession of her faculties. The door 
stood open, so did the gate. She pressed the 


SEPARATION 267 

treasure in her hand, and, walking somewhat 
unsteadily, left the house. 

The road reached, her purpose nerved her. 
She had but one idea in the world ; thought 
did not go beyond it. Nothing distracted her 
on the way; the distance even was miracu- 
lously shortened. 

However, the house was unguarded and 
empty. The lamp was turned down in the 
sitting-room ; several candles were burning in 
the dining-room. The roses still perfumed the 
atmosphere, and the table was set for break- 
fast. Mrs. Aston looked at the solitary plate, 
the cup and saucer, the knife and fork for one. 
At one place the cloth was folded back, a 
chair and drawing materials were arranged as 
if their owner intended to work by candle- 
light. The kitchen was in perfect order. The 
ashes had been removed, the kindling was 
built in the grate of the small stove. A batch 
of bread was covered on the table; near it 
stood Peggy’s impromptu chair. 

Mrs. Aston waited, irresolute, then she 


268 


SEPARATION 


carried it back to the dining-room and put it 
at the table. That done, she drew forward a 
third chair and sat down. 

“You look very comfortable,” said Cortis. 
He was standing in the doorway regarding her 
with decided amazement. 

“I thought you would never come,” she 
said, growing suddenly embarrassed and un- 
consciously rising. 

“ Did you forget anything ? ” 

“ Read this.” As he took it, he put his arm 
around her. His troubled glance gave way to 
an expression of utter astonishment and in- 
credulity : 

“ This is unaccountable ! ” 

“Isn’t it lovely? What did you say to 
him ? You saw him since I did.” 

“ Is that so ? I said nothing very pleasant, 
I can assure you.” 

“ Poor daddy ! ” her lips quivered. “ Aston, 
I begged him to do this ! ” 

“Marion!” She met his searching gaze. 
“ Did you consider everything ? Are you sure 


SEPARATION 269 

of yourself ? Do you want me ? Sweetheart I 
Sweetheart ! ” 

“ I am going to be very good after this. It 
was all my fault,” she whispered. 

“No, I was wrong. I did not know how 
to value you. I learned a great deal when 
it was too late. My eyes were troubling 
me, and I was nervous and irritable. . I 
should have told you, but I did not want to 
admit the fact to myself. It was a radical 
mistake, for I needed you. I was wronging 
you, too ; for in spite of everything that has 
happened, I always believed that we loved 
each other.” 

“We let trifles take the place of great con- 
cerns. Think how cruelly, how unjustly I 
treated you ! You never knew about Reggy. 
My conscience commenced to haunt me as soon 
as he was born. I wanted you to see him. I 
longed to see you. How can people who love 
each other hurt each other so heartlessly? 
Sometimes I have told myself that you would 
never forgive me.” 


270 


SEPARATION 


“ Mj darling, I have never blamed you. 
We let others part us, and we have suffered 
for our folly. No tears to-night, pet, unless 
they are happy ones. We have our whole 
future for love.” 

“ Say our whole present.” 

“ That is better.” 

Aston, how are we ever going to do enough 
for Dr. Carey ? ” 

“We never can, Marion. That is certain. 
By the way, I have just left him finishing 
some letters. A lot of people are coming 
here presently to congratulate me upon get- 
ting out of his hands. I think he incited 
the movement. Well, what are you going 
to do?” 

“ Run away.” 

“Not a bit of it. We’ll have a jolly 
little house-warming. You’ll find a box of 
candles in the cupboard, and I’ll cut more 
flowers. We can make the rooms quite pre- 
sentable.” 

She looked after him wistfully : 



\ 


\ 


SEPARATION 271 

“ I think you are nicer than ever.’’ 

‘^You see, I have been studying you,” he 
said, quickly returning for a kiss. 


THE END 




yoatiy the Curate 


■ By FLORENCE WARDEN 

jo8 pages., size 7% x 5, Cloih j stampings, $1.00 


The time of the story is 1748, its scene being along the 
seacoast of Sussex, England. The doings here of the “free 
traders,” as they called themselves, or smugglers, as the 
government named them, had become so audacious that a 
revenue cutter with a smart young lieutenant in command, 
and a brigade of cavalrj^ were sent down to work together 
against the offenders. Everybody in the village seems en- 
gaged in evading the revenue laws, and the events are very 
exciting. Joan is the parson’s daughter, and so capable and 
useful in the parish that she is called “ the curate.” She and 
the smart young lieutenant are the characters in a romance. 

— Book Notes. 

“Joan, the Curate” (Joan, a creamy-skinned, black-eyed 
maiden, gets her surname on account of the part she plays 
in helping her father. Parson Langley, with his duties), is a 
village tale of the smuggling days on the wild marsh coast 
of Kent and the equally lonely cliffs of Sussex. The village 
is a hot-bed of these daring “ free traders,” even the parson 
and his daughter are secretly in sympathy with them, and 
young Lieutenant Tregenna, who is in command of the 
revenue cutter sent to overawe the natives, has anything but 
a comfortable task to perform. His difficulties only increase 
when he falls in love with Joan and discovers her leanings 
towards the illegalities of the village, and when, at the same 
time, the audacious leader of the smugglers, Ann Price, who 
carries on her trade disguised as a man, falls in love with 
him herself, the complications are almost bewildering. 
The story moves through countless adventures, sanguinary 
fights, and lovers’ quarrels to the conventionally happy 
ending and the partial return of the fishermen to honest 
ways. —Book News, 

Miss Florence Warden in “Joan, the Curate” tells an or- 
thodox' tale of smugglers in the last century with plenty of 
exciting adventures and no deviations from the accepted 
traditions of a familiar pattern in fiction. — N. E, Sun. 

At nil booksellers or 7vill be sent, 
postpaid, upon receipt of price by 


F. M. BUCKLES & COMPANY 
g-n SaU i6th Stnet, New York 


The Real ILady ^^Hilda 


By B. M. CROKER 

366 pages, size 7}^ x 5, Cloth, 3 stampings, $1,00 


"The Real Lady Hilda,” by B. M. Croker, is a very pleas- 
in':^ uovel, depending for its interest not upon sensational in- 
cipient, but upon a clever portrayal of disagreeable tiaits of 
character in high society. The story is told by a young lady 
v/ho finds herself with her stepmother in obscure lodgings in 
an obscure country town. The head of the family had been 
physician to a Rajah in India, had lived in princely style and 
had entertained in princely fashion. He had died and left to 
his widow and child nothing but a small pension, and they 
soon found themselves in straightened circumstances. Be- 
sides the character drawing, the entertaining feature of the 
story lies in the shabby treatment which the two impecun- 
ious women receive from the people whom they have so 
royally entertained in India, and the inability of the widow, 
with her Indian experience, to understand it. Entertaining 
too is the fawning toad} ’'(sm of the middle-class women, who 
disdainfully tip their noses and wag their tongues when they 
find that the poor women are neglected by the great lady in 
the neighborhood, 

— The Bookseller, Newsdealer and Stationer. 

Mrs. Croker belongs to the group of English country life 
novelists. She is not one of its chief members, but she suc- 
ceeds often in being amusing in a quiet, simple way. Her 
gentlefolk lack the stamp of caste, but the plots in which 
they are placed are generally rather ingenious. Of course, 
in a field so assiduously v/orked, one cannot look for origin- 
ality. The present book is just what the author modestly 
calls it — a “sketch,” with the usual poor girl of good family 
and the equally familiar happy ending .— and Express^ ' 


At all booksellers or will be sent, 
prepaid, upon receipt of price by 


F. M. BUCKLES & COMPANY 

p~/i East i6ih Street t New York 


The Good Mrs. Hypocrite 


By ‘^RITJ " 

284 pages., size x 5, Cloih, j stampings h $1.00 


“Good Mrs. Hypocrite,’’ a study in self-rightecnsness-j 
is a most enjoyable novel “ Rita.’* It has little of plot, 
and less of adventure, but is the study of a single character 
and a narration of her career. But she is sufficiently unique 
to absorb the attention, and her purely domestic experiences 
are quite amusing. She is the youngest daughter of a Scotch 
family, angular as to form and sour as to feature. She had 
an aggressive manner, was selfish, and from girlhood set her- 
self against all tenderness of sentiment. Losing her parents, 
she tried her hand as a governess, went to her brother in 
Australia, returned to England and joined a sisterhood in 
strange garb, and her quarrelsome disposition and her habit 
of quoting scripture to set herself right made her presence 
everywhere objectionable. For this old maid was very re- 
ligious and strict as to all outward forms. Finally she went to 
live with an invalid brother. She discharged the set vant, 
chiefly because she was plump and fair of feature, and she 
replaced her with a maid as angular as herself, straight from 
Edinbro’. The maid was also religious and quoted scripture, 
and the fun of the story lies in the manner in which the 
woman who had had her way so long was beaten by own 
weapons. — Bookseller^ Newsdealer and Stationer. 

The Scotch character is held up in this story at its worst. 
All its harshness, love of money, unconscious hypocrisy, 
which believes in lip-service while serving but its own self, 
are concentrated in the figure of the old spinster who takes 
charge of her invalid brother’s household. She finds a match, 
however, in the Scotch servant she hires, hard like herself, 
but with the undemonstrative kindness that seems to be a 
virtue of the race. The book lacks the charm that lies at 
the root of the popularity of the books of the “Kailyard” 
school. In its disagreeable way, however, it is consistent, 
though the melodramatic climax is not the ending one has a 
right to expect . — The Mail and Express. 

At all booksellers or will be sent. 

postpaid, upon receipt of price bv 


F. M. BUCKLES & COMPANY 

g-ii East i6lh Street, New York 


Captain yachman 


By W. CLARK RUSSELL 

240 pageSt size 7^ Clothy j stampingSy $1.00 


"* Captain Jackman ; or, A Tale of Two Tunnels,” is a story 
by W. Clark Russell, not so elaborate in plot as some of his 
stories, or so full of life on the sea, but some of the char- 
acters are sailors, and its incidents are of the ocean, if not on 
it. Its hero is dismissed from the command of a ship by her 
owners, because of his loss of the proceeds of a voyage, 
which they evidently think he had appropriated to himself. 
The heroine discovers him in, and rescues him from a de- 
serted smuggler’s cave, where he had by some mischance 
imprisoned himself. He handsome, she romantic as well, 
they fall in love with each other. Her father, a retired 
commander of the Royal navy, storms and swears to no pur- 
pose, for she elopes with the handsome captain, who starts 
on an expedition to capture a Portugese ship laden with gold 
— a mad scheme, conceived as it appears by a madman, which 
accounts for his curious and unconventional ways.. 

— Bookseller y Newsdealer and Stationer. 

It is readable, interesting, and admirable in its technical 
skill. Mr. Russell, without apparent effort, creates an atmos- 
phere of realism. His personages are often drawn with a few 
indicative strokes, but this can never be said of his central 
figures. In the present little story the fascinating personal- 
ity of Captain Jackman stands out very clearly. He is a 
curious study, and the abnormal state of his mind is made 
to come slowly into the recognition of the reader just as it 
does into that of old Commander Conway, R. N. This is 
really a masterly bit of story-craft, for it is to this that the 
maintenance of the interest of the story is due. The reader 
does not realize at first that he is following the fortunes of a 
madman, but regards Jackman as a brilliant adventurer. 
The denoument is excellently brought about, although it 
gives the tale its sketchy character. — N. Y. Times. 


At all booksellers or will be sevt. 
postpaid, upon receipt of price by 

F. M. BUCKLES & COMPANY 

East i6lh Street New Yort' 


A Rogue’ s Conscience 


By DAVID CHRISTIE MURRAT 

j/f pages, size yyi ^ 5, Cloth, j stampings, $i.oo. 


It is rather unusual to find a detective story written from 
the criminal’s point of view, and truth to tell, in this 
“Rogue’s Conscience,” by David Christie Murray, we find 
our sympathies and anxieties strongly following the hunted 
ones. Mr. James Mortimer and Mr. Alexander Ross were 
such entertaining sinners, and their disguises were so mar- 
vellous, and their escapes so hairbreadth, that we follow the 
comedy of their fortunes with unfailing cheerfulness. When 
the scene shifts from city risks to the broad field of mining 
camp speculations, we see the beginning of the end, for here 
the “rogue’s conscience ” commenced to work, and a double 
reformation ends the book in a blaze of glory. The story has 
just enough seriousness to give it balance, but by no means 
enough to destroy the pleasantly light and entertaining 
quality of the book . — Literary World. 

David Christie Murray has written an amusing tale of two 
unworthies in “A Rogue’s Conscience.” “If you want to en- 
lighten a rogue’s conscience, serve him as he served other 
people — rob him,’’ observes the “hero,” who has acquired 
the “ sixth sense of honesty.” How he arrived at this sage 
conclusion, and how he put the principle into effect, all tend 
toward the live human interest of a story which shows no 
sign of lagging from beginning to end. The tale is not free 
from tragedy, but even the sombre parts are handled easily 
and lightly, as though the author believed them necessary, 
but yet felt freer in the atmosphere cf almost light-hearted 
roguery which pervades most of the volume. The book is 
capital reading for a summer afternoon, and action lurks on 
every page,— 


At all booksellers or will be sent, 
prepaid, upon receipt of price by 


F. M. BUCKLES & COMPANV 

j-// East j6th Street New York 


A Maris Undoing 


By Mrs. H. LOVETT CAMERON 

333 pages, size 7yi ^ 5 , Cloth, 3 stampings, $1.00. 


A retired English officer, returned to his widowed mother’s 
quiet home in the country, finds his undoing in idleness, 
which leads him into a flirtation with a girl socially and in- 
tellectually his inferior, but who is clever enough to foj ce 
marriage upon him. Then complications thicken, as the 
man discovers the full meaning of his fatal mistake. 

— The Mail and Express. 

“A Man’s Undoing” is an exceptionally good novel by 
Mrs. H. Lovett Cameron. It is not written to tickle the 
palate of the sated reader who is looking only for new’ sensa- 
tions, nor is it intended to amuse for a short hour, it preaches 
no new doctrine ; it presents no novelties of character or in- 
cident. Its theme is as old as humanity — the burden of .story 
and song through all the ages. But Mrs. Cameron show s that 
it has lost none of its interest, that its phases may be pre- 
sented in new aspects, that the conventionalities of modern 
civilization have not made it less a force in the affairs of 
men, nor obliterated any of its eternal truths. Its influence 
over the lives of men and women varies in extent and re- 
sults, as the men and women vary in character, subject 
always to variations of condition and environment : there- 
fore it always presents new studies. All the world loves 
a lover, and no one knows better than Mrs. Cameron how to 
make a lover most interesting. Especially skillful is she in 
her delineations of women who love. She paints other women 
also to fill out her pictures — the narrow-minded old maids and 
the gossipy matrons, and none of her women are repellingly 
bad — but her women who love have all the nobility and 
strength of womanhood. As she deals with noble character, 
so she deals with the serious affairs of life, of strong emo- 
tions, of heart histories, with all their heroism and pathos. 
“A Man’s Undoing” is admirably constructed, Its lessons 
will not be lost upon the thoughtful, and it will be read with 
eager interest by all classes of novel readers.. 

— Bookseller, Newsdealer and Stationer* 


A t all booksellers or will be sent 
postpaid, upon receipt of price by 

F. M. BUCKLES & COMPANY 
9'^^ East 1 6th Street New York 


A Splendid Sin 

By GRANT ALLEN 

V 3 size Cloth, Three Stampings, $1.00 

The title of this book implies audacity, and in this it is 
true to its teachings. Mr. Allen’s independent line of thought 
was never more clearly defined, and the “splendor” of the 
sin really takes our breath away. Mr. Allen was always 
perfectly frank about pot boiling, and therefore took some 
ground from his critic, but he never lost his power to tell an 
entertaining story, no matter how startling or improbable it 
was, nor with what rapidity he dashed it off. “ The Woman 
Who Did” was a difficult heroine to accept, but even she is 
mild compared to Mrs. Egremont’s achievements in the line 
of independent action in “A Splendid Sin.” It would be a 
pity to take the zest from the reader by outlining the plot, 
whose chief charm lies in its surprises. Sufficient to say that 
here is a problem novel with a vengeance, and the spectacle 
of an illegitimate son ordering his mother’s lawful husband 
out of her house in righteous indignation at his existence is 
an example of advanced thought rarely met with in every- 
day life. — The Commercial Advertiser, Nov. 18, 1899. 

“A Splendid Sin,” by Grant Allen, has just been pub- 
lished by F. M. Buckles & Co. It is one of the late.st works 
written by the noted author, of whose untimely death we 
have just learned. It will l3e treasured as one of his best 
novels by the large number of readers who peruse with inter- 
est all productions froni his pen. It is a study of an act 
which is universally condemned as a sin. Not in itself as a 
saving power, but its disclosure comes to an illegitimate son 
as a blessing, making a happy marriage possible, and saving 
all concerned from disgrace and misery. Even the sin itself 
is made to appear lovely and proper in comparison with that 
other sin which the world readily excuses, namely, the forc- 
ing of a marriage where there is no true love or mutual re- 
spect. It is a story to please by its plot and action and char- 
acter drawing, and also to set one thinking upon some of the 
serious problems of life. 

— Evening Telegram, N, Y., Nov. 9, i89r 

all booksellers or ’luill be sent, 
postpaid, upon receipt of price by 

F. M. BUCKLES & COMPANY 

g-iT East rdth Street, New York 


Hagar of the Pawn-Shop 


By FERGUS HUME, 

2g6 pages y size tlloth^ j stampings^ $I.00» 

Those who like detective stories will get much enjoy- 
ment out of the ten in this book, which have connection 
enough to give them a certain continuity. Hagar, a gypsy 
girl, has a wonderful personality, great shrewdness, penetra- 
tion, and judgment, beside being very handsome, dignified 
and self-respecting. There are ten different customers, each 
of whom brings some peculiar article to pawn, and the article 
has a story of its own, or a very strange mystery. She 
unravels the mystery, brings criminals to their punishment, 
and restores fortunes. It is all cleverly done, and Hagar’s 
sagacity is something to be admired. The author is Fergus 
Hume . — Literary World, Nov. 25. 

Hagar Stanley, a gypsy, and niece of the dead wife of a 
miserly old London pawnbroker, is driven by the unwelcome 
attentions of a gypsy half-breed suitor to flee from her tribe 
in the New Forest, She takes refuge with old Jacob Dix, 
the pawnbroker, who, before his death, is trapped by a cheap 
lawyer into trying unsuccessfully to disinherit his son in favor 
of Hagar, who defeats the plot, only to discover that the 
son is the man who drove her from the gypsy tribe. The 
adventures of the two form the material for Mr. Hume’s new 
story . — The Mail a 7 id Express, Oct. 26. 

This is a volume of detective stories by Fergus Humev 
whose “ Mystery of a Hansom Cab” w'll be recalled as a 
clever bit of writing. Between “The Coming of Hagar 
and “The Passing of Hagar” are grouped ten stories, each 
bearing a separate interest, but each linked together so that 
they follow in natural order. Hagar is an interesting young 
Gypsy who comes into charge of a pawn-shop of very doubt- 
ful character in a somewhat unusual way. Her adventures 
and those of her customers are entertaining and lively and 
the tales are of a stirring character. When Conan Doyle, 
with Sherlock Holmes, lifted detective stories to a higher 
plane than they had occupied since the days of Fdgar Allen 
Poe, he opened the way for other writers to explore the field. 
Fergus Hume has done so with much success ; and the present 
volume is sure of a numerous clientage among those who 
like the bizarre in fiction. — American . 

At all booksellers or 'will be senty 
postpaid, upon receipt of price by 

F. M. BUCKLES & COMPANV 
g-ix Salt lith Strftt, Fm V<ir7 


A Rational Marriage 


By FLORENCE MARRY AT 


2g6 Pages ^ Size 7% x Cloth, Ink and Gold, $1.2$. 


A Rational Marriapfe is the title of the book, which is Florence 
Marryat’s latest contribution to her circle of readers. It belongs to 
that class of light literature which is enjoyed by those who read only 
for the pleasure of the hour, and will, doubtless, meet with approval 
from the novel reading public. 

The story is of a young woman of rather Bohemian proclivities who 
lives in a flat and acts as .secretary to an elderly nobleman. She has 
“ expectations” from her grandfather, but only in the event of her re- 
maining single, as the old gentleman has decided dislike for matrimony. 

How it all turned out may be gathered from the book which comes 
from the publishing house of F. M. Buckles & Co., New York. 

— Toledo Blade, Feb. 8. 

The late Florence Marryat had a fine appreciation of a humorous 
situation, and she used it to good purpose in this story, which is based 
on a clandestine marriage. When rooms are reserved at a certain place 
for “Mr. and Mrs. Smith,” and two couples answering to that name 
make their simultaneous appearance, there is apt to be some explain- 
ing necessary. The embarassments resulting from hasty marriages, 
in which there is an object in preserving secrecy has been the theme 
of both novelist and playwright, but the lamented author of this vol- 
ume has succeeded in extracting about all the humor and aggravation 
that can be found in the situation. Fancy a man having to play a 
gaine of freeze-out with his own wife as the attraction, and yet not 
daring to acknowledge the relation.ship ! And the fact that the man is 
a journalist makes it all the more enjoyable. 

The volume is a handsome one, the cover design being particularly 
attractive . — Rochester Herald, Feb. 9. 

“A Rational M3~*-iage,” by the late Florence Marryat, daughter 
of the famous Captain Marryat, is not a strong story, but it was written 
with a praiseworthy purpose that shines forth from every page. The 
purpose is to show the magic power of love. A clever, independent 
young women, who has formed her own conclusions regarding matri- 
mony, and a bright young newspaper man enter into a marriage 
agreement with the understanding that everything is to go on exactly 
as before the ceremony. The young man agrees because it is the only 
way to secure her, and they are united by a magistrate. Then follow 
complications ; uneasy days and sleepless nights, and all the woes pos- 
sible to those who, reckoning, without love, enter the matrimonial. state 
After a judicious amount of trial and tribulations the clouds break 
away for a bright and satisfactory ending. A few contrasting ex- 
amples of conjugal bliss and single unhappiness are thrown in quite 
effectively . — Chicago Tribune, 

At all booksellers or ’will be senty 
7)0stf>aidy upon receipt of priee by 

F. M. BUCKLES & COMPANY 

g-ll East i6th Street, New York 


Terence 


By MRS. B. M. CROKER 

J20 Pages., jyi X Cloth, Ink and Gold, $1.2^. 

It may be truthfully said that the story goes with a rattle from the 
moment ^^aureen takes charge of the runaway horses till the tinit* 
wbeu the hero tells her his love and finds the ri^ht answer to bo 
ready on her lips. The dialogue and characterization deserve a 
special word of acknowledgment and thanks. — London Literary 
World. 

Mrs. Croker has given us an Irish story of the right sort — mettle- 
some and vivacious, and sparkling with the characteristic humor of 
the country. . . . The story is interesting from beginning to end, 
and it is sure to be widely YQna.— Glasgow Herald. 

There is a freshness, brightness, and charm which make it such a 
story as, when ended, is laid down with the wish that there had been 
more of it. — Scotsman. 

A brightly written sioxY.— Daily Chronicle. 

Told with a full measure of Mrs. Croker’s vivacity and humor. 
— Spectator. 

An Australian girl, of semi-Irish blood, and an Irishman whom, 
tlioagh he is driving a public coach, we readily recognize as a gentle- 
man, furnish Mrs. Croker the necessary elements of a love story, set 
ill a brisk tale, full of movement, and the sunny Celtic character.— 
Mail and Express, Feb. 19. 

‘ Terence,’ '■ by Mrs. B. M. Croker, is one of liveliest novels that she 
has written. The characters are sharply drawn, and every one of 
them is worthy of a permanent place in fiction. The dialogao is 
bright and charming, and all of the incidents are entertaining— some 
of them thrilling. The London Literary World says: “The stf>iy 
goes with a rattle from the moment when Maureen takes charge r.f 
the runaway horses till the time when the hero tells her his love and 
finds the right answer to be ready on her lips. Terence earned his 
living by driving a coach, but even the least sagacious reader of these 
chapters will quickly decide that his birth was superior to his occu- 
pation, and will guess that Mrs. Croker has waiting in the back- 
ground a splendid silver lining for the cloud overhanging him in the 
early portions of her novel. Maureen was an unsophisticated girl 
from Australia who fully believed with Tennyson that kind hearts 
are more than coronets Because she was wealthy, Terence, though 
he worshipped her with all the zeal and fervor at his command, felt 
himself compelled to keep silence. But Mrs. Croker and Cupid plotted 
against him so successfully that in the end Australia and freland 
make a union at the altar,”— jBoofcseZZer, Newsdealer and Stationer, 
Feb. 15. 

At all booksellers or ’will be sent, 
postpaid, upon receipt of price by 

F. M. BUCKLES & COMP J NT 


g~ll East i6tb Street, New York 


The Greatest Gift 


By A. W. MARCHMONT 

H 5 Pages, Size 7%, , 1 - 5 , Cloth, Ink aad Gold, $1,25, 


“The Greatest Gift” opens with a ghastly tragedy. A man who 
hai just succeeded to a fortune returns home to find that his wife has 
become insane, and in a paroxysm of madness has thrown their only 
child out of the window. He lives, but grows up deformed, both in 
mind and body, with one dominating passion — love for his cousin 
Margery. Out of love and gratitude to her uncle, the girl promises to 
marry ner cousin. From this unnatural state of things the author is, 
of course, bound to rescue his heroine and he does. The enterprising 
jourualist, who has to act as amateur detective, and the wily widow, 
who wiil persist in trying to marry him, the coy maiden, and the bold 
adventuress, all have their parts to play in bringing about the denoue- 
ment. The author shows ingenuity in handling his plot, and there is 
enough love, mystery, and tragedy to satisfy the most exacting lover 
of an exciting tale.— Washingion Post. 

Tho.se estimable persons who object to psychological subtleties 
and merely literary fripperies are commended to “The Greatest Gift,” 
by A. W. Marchmont. In this volume the characters are up and doing 
from the initial paragraph. . . . How he does it, we shall leave the 
reader to find out, with the assurance that the author shows much in- 
genuity in the handling of his plot, and here is enough love, mystery, 
and tragedy to satisfy the most exacting lover of an exciting tale. 

— N. Y. Evening Telegram. 

A. W. Marchmont is a clever writer of light, or ephemeral fiction. 
His touch is delicate, his insight keen and his imagination bright. His 
.skill was never so well displayed as in “A Dash for a Throne,” but 
here we find him congenially employed. — Detroit Journal. 

’“The Greatest Gift,” by A. W. Marchmont, is in its theme quite un- 
like the author’s previous novels, but though it has nothing to do with 
thrones and swords, and its pa.ssions and tragedies are those of people 
who live in ordinary English homes and are unknown to history, they 
are treated in the same masterful manner as those of the author’s 
characters of higher rank. Undoubtedly, too, they will please quite as 
large a circle of readers. . . . The novel involves several charming love 
stories and several others that are not so charming but are certainly 
entertaining. — Bookseller and Stationer. 


all beoksellers or ivill be sent, postpaid, upon receipt of price by 


F. M. BUCKLES & COMPANY 

p-ii East 16th Street. New York 


In Londons Heart 


By GEORGE R. SIMS 

435 7 ^ ^ 5> CMh, Ink and Gold, $t.3$ 

George R. Sim’s name is associated with melodrama, and in his latest 
ttovel, “ In London’s Heart,” the melodramatic element is decidedly to 
the fore, though lovers of exciting fiction — of stories where struggling 
human nature and bad, bad villains produce hairbreadth scenes — will find 
it made up of absorbing materials. The hero is Stephen Alison, a ticket- 
of-leave-man, etc., etc., whose sentence was scarcely the result of his own 
crime, and who is anxious, like so many of his own class from poor Bob 
Brierly downwards, to lead a new life. The desire to sever himself from 
his old associates is not so easy to accomplish, and gradually he falls into 
bad company again. Having no money, he agrees with some old con- 
federates to accompany a dissipated young nobleman abroad, with the inten- 
tion of killing him and then claiming the insurance money which the 
sharpers have already got the victim to assign to them. But before this 
delightful little scheme can be set actually working, the nobleman is mur- 
dered at his house in Grosvenor place, and suspicion falls on Stephen. The 
rest of the book is a triumphant effort to clear Stephen, and everjbody is 
finally punished or rewarded in due measure. — Albany Argus, 

“In London’s Heart,”* by George R. Sims, is the story of an English 
** ticket-of-leave ” convict, who was desirous of living a new life, but 
found it difficult to get away from his old associates. He returns to his old 
ways, but by an astonishing incident becomes a millionaire. From that 
time on the stoiv becomes highly sensational, and the reader who wanes 
'•'irilling excitement” gets it in liberal measure. — Cleveland Plaindealer, 
“ In London o Heart,” by George R. Sims, is another proof of this 
author’s power to write a good melodramatic story. It is full of trouble 
and struggle, plotting and mystery, critical situations and stirring incidents. 
Moreover, it is coherent and readable and will prove popular with readers of 
adventurous fiction. — Rochester Democrat and Chronicle, 

To begin with a gentlemen who is also a ticket-of-leave man and end 
ap with the same gentleman in his brother’s place as a millionaire after a 
eeries of the most alarming and sensational adventures is George R. Sims’ 
way of idling “In London’s Heart.” The story is a rattle» . It isn’t 
exactly a detective or mystery story ; but it is the good old melodrama of 
an earlier day brought into the present age for its entertainment, if not its 
edification. There is a detective, of course, but he is friendly to the 
gentleman-criminal, instead of being a mere sleuth, and the book contain* 
other novel features which are enough to delight a varied and youthfi 
audience. — Chicago Evening Post. 

At all booksellers or viill he sent, postpaid, upon receipt of price 

F. M. BUCKLES & COMPANY 

g II East i6lh Street ^ New York 


A JV 2rd of the King 


{An Historical Romance^ 

By KATHARINE S. MACSAJQID 

^28 pages, size rYzXs, Cloth, Ink and Gold, $i 2s 

This is a story of the times of the great Constable oi 
Bourbon. Jeanne d’Acigne is married when a child to ihe 
Comte de Layal. Adventures and the clash of steel are 
things masculine, and the woman cannot put enough muscle 
into her hard knocks. But perhaps for this very reason it 
may be commended to those gentler souls who shrink from 
blood and wounds ; and it may be also commended to those 
who are charmed by a singularly refined and feminine style 
for its own gracious sake. — London Literary World. 

“ A Ward of the King” is a romance of the time of the 
Bourbon kings. The heroine is the only child of the Count 
(I’Acigne, dead when the story opens ; the heroes, the Count 
of I/aval, whom she marries at thirteen at the command of 
the King and her friend and unknown lover, Roland, the 
heir of the Vicomte d’Orbec— both noble men in truth. 
The cousin of the Count of Taval, Ktiennede Retz, conceived 
a passion for the Countess Laval on her wedding day. This 
leads to the intrigue about which the story, full of life and 
fire, centers. — The Outlook. 

Miss Katharine S. Macquoid in her new book, “ A Ward 
of the King,” has departed somewhat from the usual rule of 
romance writers. She has taken for the centre figure of the 
story a woman instead of a swaggering man. This notion, 
however, must be commended by the excellent manner in 
which the authoress has transcribed it. — Boston Coufier. 

With the present widespread popularity of, and interest 
in the historical romance, Katharine Macquoid’s “A Ward 
of the King” is sure of a hearing. The tale is worthy of the 
encomiums which are being bestowed upon it. The story is 
of the Great Constable of Bourbon ; its scenes and its times 
readily lend themselves to the play of the romantic incident 
and the weaving of skilful plots. The story is marked by a' 
style of singular refinement. — American, Nov. 16. 

At all bookseller i or nvill be sent, 
postpaid, upon receipt of price by 

F. M. BUCKLES ^ COMPANl 

g-li East i6tb Street, New York 


A Rise in the JV irld 


By ADELINE SERGEANT 

377 pn^gesy size 7 Clothy ink and gold ^ $1.25. 

Miss bergeant’s new novel has not “Adam Grigson’vS’' right 
to consideration, though it is not without a certain interest 
for the reader who has just laid down the latter book. The 
heroine of “A Rise in the World” is a little household 
drudge, kind hearted, good and unselfish, but untaught and 
illiterate as any other Tondon “slavey.” We do^ not say 
that it would be impossible for this girl to reach a high place 
in English society within an absurdly short time, but it must 
be admitted that the transition as described by Miss Sergeant 
is not convincing. A man’s a man fora’ that, but training, or 
the lack of it, and the human being’s evironment must count, 
so that it is not easy to accept as a probable personage the 
cockney servant who becomes a beautiful peeress and charm- 
ing woman of the world with such startling rapidity. — N. Y. 
Tribune. 

In “A Rise in the World” (Buckles) Adeline Sergeant 
outdoes Laura Jean Libbey in her efforts to bring her heroine 
from the lowliest walks of life to the height of the social 
wc’-ld. She makes the poor girl, who is a nursery maid, 
awk.'^rd, stupid, stubborn, and untidy, only granting her 
the graces of a kind heart and a sensible name, Elizabeth. 

Of course, the hand of every man is against Elizabeth as she 
struggles to make herself worthy of the position to which 
marriage with a gentleman has raised her ; but in time, by 
the tender guidance of the rash young man’s unworldly 
mother, the girl becomes a marvel of feminine attractive- 
ness. One by one her enemies are laid low and she forgives 
them all. The story is not quite so melodramatic as those 
of its kind usually are. The noteworthy thing about it is 
the ease with which the author removes immovable obstacles. 
—Eliicago Tribune 

Readers of this interesting picture of London society will - 
perhaps be impressed by the unevenness of its literary merit. 
Some of the scenes are capitally done ; others seem hurriedly 
sketched, but the author’s style is always femininely incisive. 
Despite a few seeming improbabilities in plot, the story as a 
whole is one which has in it an inevitable attractiveness, ag 
do all accounts of real rises and progresses in the world.— 
f’le Outlook. 

At all booksellers or will be sent, 
postpaid, upon receipt of price by 

F. M. BUCKLES & COMPANY 

g-ii East 16th Street, New York 


Comrades True 


By ANNIE THOMAS 

pageSy size x 5, Clothy hik and goldy $i.2g. 

This novel is nothing if not up to date, and if its publica- 
tion had only been delayed a month the fall of Tientsin 
would in all probability have figured largely in the closing 
pages. The name is all right as far as a certain portion of 
the characters go, but the rest of them are about as untrue 
to each other as one could possibly imagine, and the readers 
will make a great mistake if they imagine those who are en- 
gaged to be married in the early part of the book have any 
real intention of actually marrying. For those who like to 
have their fiction people live, move, and have their being 
amid the toil and trouble of everyday life, this story will, 
without doubt, appeal strongly. The English — well, that 
does not matter so much in books of this class, and 
the action is so rapid and vividly realistic that one un- 
consciously overlooks any little mistakes which the author 
may have committed in her desire to get the book complete 
before the war in Africa was finished. — Phila. Telegraph. 

“ Comrades True’’ is a Vi^ide-reaching romance. The list 
includes impecunious comrades— not well-mated comrades — 
divorced and wanted- to-be-divorced comrades, and their in- 
felicities are heard all the way from Tondon to South Africa 
on sea and land. The reader will ever find it difficult with- 
out tabbing to keep an account of the divorce mill. The 
parties in each contest are remarkably serene, and behind 
each some other man or woman appears in sight I0 enable 
“Comrades True” to bear a separation with equanimity. 
The London Literary World, in noticing the book, says : It 
cannot be complained that ** Comrades True” is not up to 
date. The Boers, the imperial volunteers, wounds, and 
nurses play a large part in it, and the author delivers herself 
of plenty of such correct, if rash Saxon sentimenis as ‘I’d 
like to face a hundred Boers single-handed this minute, and 
how them what an Englishman can do when his blood is up 
at insults offered to our Queen and country .” The story has 
life and movement, and seems to be in line, and does not 
comprehend the connubial infelicities which are threatening 
the happy home life of the world., — Chicago Inter-Ocean. 

At all booksellers or will he sent, 
prepaid^ upon receipt of price by 

F. M. BUCKLES & COMPANY 

g-ti East i 6 ih Street, New York 


The Plain Miss Cray 


By FLORENCE WARDEN 

327 pcLgeSy size Cloth, ink and gold, $1.25. 

A novel without any aim but that of entertaining, which 
it does to perfection. A match-making mother, a beautiful 
daughter and a plain one, a poor wooer for the pretty girl, 
who is sent about his business by the worldly mater, to be 
recalled when her dreams prove unrealizable, and a brilliant 
match for the plain Miss Cray — this is the slight plot of an 
unpretentious, readable tale. — Mail and Express. 

A healthy story of the good, old-fashioned type ; interest- 
ing without being unhealthily exciting , To every cloud there 
is a silver lining, and catastrophes only threaten, never hap- 
pen. The characters are normal and their lives natural. A 
pleasant relief from the intense problem novel. — Philadel- 
phia Telegraph, 

After a careful study of the history of humor from the 
time of Noah to the Sunday comic supplements, Mark Twain 
declared that there were really only thirty-nine genuine 
original jokes as the sum total of human effort in that direc- 
tion. A study of the novels of the year justifies the assertion 
that there are only two kinds of novels — those in which 
everything ends all right and everybody is happy and those 
in which everything is all wrong and nobody is happy. Of 
this latter class of novels we have had a surfeit recently, and 
can afford to thank Miss Warden for turning back into the 
paths of optimism, of cheerfulness and peace, as she does in 
“The Plain Miss Cray.” — New York World. 

“A novel in which poetical justice is fearlessly dealt out,” 
a writer in the lyondon Titerary World humorously remarks, 
“ has become almost a thing of the past.” For those who 
have found this a hardship “The Plain Miss Cray,” by 
Florence Warden (F. M. Buckles & Company), will doubt- 
lessly appeal. It is perhaps enough for the intending reader 
to know that the heroine whose name figures in the title of 
the book, triumphs over the villain and her prettier rivals with 
ease. Those who “ get enough of life as it is” and want 
something else in their fiction can obviously take up this 
volume with confidence. — N. Y. Evening Telegram. 

At all booksellers or will be sent, 
postpaid, upon receipt of price by 

F. M. BUCKLES & COMPANY 

9-11 Bast j6lh Street, New York 


jUN 2 8 1302 




i u N 27 1902 






• ' 




^ /•/: .'<'• 

f . * •» . 


[‘W*’’- "'V 

L-J ■...•' ■* » •» 


' V ^ 

si .'■ " 


•% . •, .■•»•• 


4 / 




\ 


K' 1 COPY nn p 

;'A' .* '- ■ • « 


< C ‘ 




Tfk f; AT 

« 

JON. 28 1908 

, < 

r f> . 


' ' V I K «• *. • »\vT /V ' ' ' * ■ \'' ■ • ’ ' « '> I'l* • V • ' • » 

vfiAT r>‘V^ ; ;. . •■ ;":,^„ v : 


' juu 


3 ' 1902 


Ki'-W 

SV T_^i ^ 


•m. 


p ; 


I* I *■ f 


I 

( - ' 


♦ 


-1 






<• 

I • 

• ^ 

4 

,'.■' ■ ' V 


1 . » 


♦V 


' 'll • » V» ' • ‘ 

•r.V * ■ ' ' . ^ I 

»• ■ ;w '■. ■;* ,*V‘ 


• 1 ^ •" ' 

' ■> '' ■ I 

•. \* y ' 


. f 

" v' * 


V 'Vi. V' 

M ■ ^.' ■ \" 


> •. 


■ > • 

( • • 






I f . , • , ^ 


I • ■ r / } 

r.- V 

'll *' '■ ■ '.r ' , 

A.*s;.-, . 

.•V 


'' 

*' I 


■ 


/ 

I 




f 


/«'. » 


s 


' 1 } 

■l 1 


:•>/* ■ ... ; 

‘ ;\\v, V 


. \*i * • I 1 »i 

■ *■' ■ ■' ' 






I < 


t . • 


. *•• 
I > 4 *' '. " 


1 . t I 


»;> - 


t 


• I . 


*4 




1* 


/• ' - 

f • % 




* '■ 


I *> 


I « 

4 




• ^ 

3 .. 


V 


I I ' 

'.1' 


* , 1 




•N\ 

i; 

V J 


> • I 


r 




' •' ' 

• . 4 *'n 

’IV * 






f. 




. s 






•j 4 




r* 


.'.i 


. S¥? ■ 

• • ♦ ^ * *1 ♦ * I * ' A ** f • 

.^1 * ' * ^ • S • €y ^ I . ^ 


V 




«. # 


>J K 


4» 


►i < 




, iS . 


. * - 1 / 










>.;.i 


\\ 


‘nv 


VjL »%i 




‘I' 






^ . * 




.V/ff 


mp 


•z 


t '* 


l*/l 




■ rj ' •• ^7 




I, V'* 




m: 


,f > 






7. 


<V<' 


h 


t » 




. 11 * < 


lit 


^..•- r. Tft; 



'I ♦ 




%• 


■• ' ■ i V \ >t. ■ > f\ 







' >■ ' 






* ,1 s 


i 


if. V'.^ 


' - ■> ' '- ' ,^ . ^ ■> V ' or ” '^'v ,:' v .,. tV;'A '^ V '' 

' ' “•’ * *" .r A ^ v '’.'^'< ***'/!' .> ‘ t '» v - yV 

* ■ • V '* ''"v-f '•' • i'i>-'.'\' ' V>i:;.'j-^>VP^' 

' ■/ \ '' r ’ ' f ' r '' ' i . V ' ' ■''•#■ 


. , ’ .»* 


/. \ 

■i ■ 


< 


« I 




, > 




•;; :J,t' ■•' .. 5.'5 ?a ."'■„ ^••, , 5? 4^'.; 





m . I 

m 


< w ' '' VI f .’ j * ^ ^ • *" "* 

! ■ y ■ ■''■ > > . r ‘-vur 


•t*»! *1* >i *0 if^A ^ ^ < ▼ /wS V - <>■ flU^i *1 /Vr’'- 

ii'V^ ' '■ ' ^'-'‘i' ,' '■■■■' ■' : ','..)-.:’V,v [WWCKflisi ;■ '■' 

itjf ' y: y' ik y y A 




W ■{*,*' ■ 




:ir^.JM..\ jKm^A. w .t . i vat* . TA.’rmpiranm i, •*{. 

:. <!v:< ■■- f 

' .n\:lXSiA. ,y.j . AV> . ? re. I* _ >t^i.v. 



4 



























